


Stonato

by killermochi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Dubious Consent, Feral Behavior, Forced Bonding, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sentinel/Guide, non-con elements, unlikable main character?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25894153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killermochi/pseuds/killermochi
Summary: Guides are supposed to register themselves with the tower when they present so that when the time comes they can bond with their perfect sentinel. But not all guides comply to a life of submission to their mates and the strict hierarchy of the tower.Rouge guides typically don't last long though. Guides release pheromones to the call of a sentinel and are biologically compelled to respond to sentinel stress signals and to have regular contact with their counterparts.Except no? None of that fake propaganda bullshit affects Jazz. He uses his empathic powers as he pleases while tap dancing around the tower's every mode of detection. That is until he meets a certain sentinel who doesn't care about his negative test results.
Comments: 74
Kudos: 188





	1. Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no, I found another trope I like and none of the fics I’m following are updating :(
> 
> A warning, this will contain dubcon and maybe noncon elements in the future. I will update tags as I go. A special warning, because my other story has a darker tone to match the heavy content, this story has a "lighter tone" but the same heavy content and messed-up society. I don't mean to romanticize anything. this is fiction. But I can see how it could make some uncomfortable, so please consider before reading.

He kind of figured he’d end up getting caught sooner or later. Today was the day he guessed.

Some guides made it to like thirty before they got taken in. That was legendary level. 9th grade was well…no one told stories about you when you got taken in in 9th grade. Especially when you’d only had your powers for a couple months. Might as well just turn yourself in to the tower and register like you were supposed to. 

Damn, maybe he should’ve just done his homework instead of using his mind tricks to try to convince the teacher that he’d already handed it in. 

By some stroke of bad luck there must’ve been a strong sentinel-guide pair visiting the school today, because right in the middle of his efforts, all of the sudden there was an announcement to put all classrooms on lockdown—a rouge guide had been detected and a team of officers from the tower would be conducting a thorough search. Maybe they’d been here for annual sentinel/guide testing?

Jazz groaned inwardly. His guide mind tricks hadn’t even worked! The other few times he’d tried them out, his targets had seemed confused for a few seconds before accepting his projected suggestions, but Mr. Morrison had been completely unmovable. He’d gone as far as to give him detention for lying! And he’d completely failed at getting out of that too. Jazz had been kind of bummed about it all until a few moments ago. Now he’d be dragged off to the tower, so it didn’t matter much anyway.

“Wow I bet we’ll be on the local news! I can’t believe there’s a guide-in-hiding at our school!” the girl sitting behind him started going off. Her words were followed by a wave of chattering excitement. 

Another kid, acting above the hype, but actually giving off just as much excited energy as the rest of them, chimed in “It’s not that big of a deal, I heard a kid got caught here a few years ago, my brother knew them. Now they’re bonded to some hot shot sentinel.”

“But aren’t you curious about who it is!” The girl countered.

Ah, shut up, it’s me you idiot. 

Now Jazz had even less to look forward too. Not only would he be locked up in the tower and forced to serve some sentinel for the rest of his days, but he’d also have to bear with this obnoxious girl’s reaction when the agents burst in here and revealed that yes, the boy who’d been sitting in front of her for half a year was in fact a rouge guide, and they had all been trapped in his web of deception. Then he imagined how she’d probably exaggerate the whole scene and low-key brag about being there to all her gossip-girl friends and he really wanted to die.

Jazz started to draw his “feelers” back in, only to perk up again when he picked up strong signals of fear, guilt, and anger sticking out from the other weaker buzzing emotions of excitement and anticipation in the classroom. 

Curious, he looked around to pinpoint the source.

It didn’t take much deduction to find it.

Mr. Morrison was fumbling around his desk, doing something at his computer with one hand and collecting files with the other. 

Maybe he was a secret guide rights activist, and was outraged at the loss of another young guide mind being pulled out of the education system. Well maybe if you hadn’t assigned so much stupid homework I wouldn’t have had to use my special guide powers on you and none of this would have happened! Jazz felt no sympathy. Just because he could sense other people’s emotions didn’t mean he had to care about them. 

Jazz then pulled his feelers completely back in and put up his walls, resigning himself to wait for his capture in silence. 

It was only a matter of time before their classroom’s turn to be inspected came around.

Jazz had only seen Sentinels and Guides in real life a couple times, in passing and on the few instances when they’d come to school for annual tests (before he’d presented, duh). Mainly he saw them on TV and in movies, sometimes on the news. They all worked for the tower, doing mainly law enforcement, detective work, military, and spy stuff, so it was probably a good sign if you didn’t run into them much, even if you weren’t a rouge guide.

When the sentinel team stepped into the classroom, Jazz continued to hold out, keeping his walls up. Maybe he wasn’t going to go down as one of the legends, but he wasn’t going to go out like a bitch. He wasn’t going to let some lap-dog tower guide use his own mind voodoo against him.

There were four sentinels and two guides. You could tell because of the different uniforms, and well, body language and all that. Guides always walked behind their sentinels, taking a backseat to the action.

A Sentinel, seemingly the one in charge, strode to the center of the room. He looked out over them, eyes making a calculated sweep of the area. Jazz shrunk in his chair, knowing that the man was sifting through every scent, every sight and sound in his surroundings; every flicker of light, every movement, every breath and heartbeat lay bare to his senses.

Jazz hoped he wouldn’t be able to see how tense he was. How long would he be able to hide?

But the man showed no indication of noticing him in particular. He straightened his tie, addressing the room as the rest of his team lined up beside him.

“Hello everyone, we apologize for interrupting your school day. As you are aware, we are making a sweep of the school following standard procedure for a rouge guide search.” The students were looking up at the sentinel in awe. At least their excitement would probably hide any fear Jazz let show. Well he couldn’t deny that the sentinels looked pretty cool, standing tall in their black suits; they were just like the sharp, smooth and sophisticated sentinels you saw in the spy movies.

“We are going to ask all students to stand up and space out at an arms-length apart to help us conduct our search more efficiently. As you are aware, failing to register as a guide is illegal, and any unregistered guide will be detained so that the tower can provide them with the help and support they require,” the sentinel continued, tone level and businesslike, as if he were reading off a piece of paper. “If anyone would-” then the sentinel suddenly paused. His eyes widened for a moment, his expression falling out of its carefully controlled neutral state before recomposing itself.

He’d definitely found something! The other sentinels had perked up too, less professional in concealing it.

The suspense built up in his chest was about to burst, he almost wanted them to get it over with and take him already.

Jazz squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear.

“…Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of these cases. Calm down, we’ve got you.”

Jazz opened his eyes guiltily, ready to face the music.

…Only to be faced with the sentinel’s back as he and his team turned their attention to the front of the room, where Mr. Morrison stood with his head down in a portrait of despair and defeat. 

In moments, the sentinels had moved to encircle Mr. Morrison, placing their hands on his shoulders, rubbing his back, whispering calm assurances. Mr. Morrison remained rigid, but the despair did seem to start fading a bit from his face, no doubt the work of the enemy guide’s mind voodoo.

One of the guides stood off from the others, looking around in deeply perplexed confusion like a lost sheep. Jazz guessed there wasn’t really a need for two guides in this situation. He almost felt bad for the guide who was so clearly the odd one out. But then it’s not like they needed a badrillion sentinels to team up on one rouge guide either. Seemed a bit excessive. Also, kind of not what he’d been thinking an arrest would look like. All in all, not all that cool looking. More like some weird snuggle fest.

Wait, his mind was going off again. What was happening?

The entire classroom hung in a stunned silence.

Their teacher, Mr. Morrison, who’d just given him detention, was being detained by a team of sentinels and guides.

Mr. Morrison had been a rouge guide! The whole time! He’d been his teacher for like half a year and he’d had no idea. And he was definitely in his mid-thirties, at least. Wow, most rogue guides who made it that long undetected lived under the radar. You had to be pretty ballsy to work a regular day job. This was going to be the talk of the school!

And that was why his mind tricks hadn’t worked on him! Jazz grinned inwardly in satisfaction. It all made sense now. He’d been worried he was losing his touch or something, but no, it was because his target had been another guide. Mr. Morrison must’ve caught onto him and put his guards up. They’d been mind battling. His first mind battle.

Jazz hesitated, eyes widening in realization. 

Then didn’t that mean Mr. Morrison knew he was a guide too?

He looked over at his teacher, who was now nodding to the sentinels, appearing pretty subdued. A couple faculty members were rushing into the room, probably getting ready to manage the aftermath of the arrest and calm the students. Mr. Morrison was being led out by the sentinels, the guides right behind them, whispering to one another.

Jazz caught one final glance at his teacher before he left.

Mr. Morrison’s half-drugged eyes bolted open with a mix of emotion as they met his.

Worry. Confusion. Not that he was feeling for them now, just visual observations.

Jazz felt a wave of relief, thinking that meant he wouldn’t be ratted out. He dared a cautious nod of thanks before turning back to pretend to listen to whatever the faculty was saying. 

Hats off for making it this far.

Next time just let me get off for forgetting to do my homework, he didn’t say, because that would be petty and mean.

* * *

Jazz watched the report of his teacher’s arrest on the news.

“This just in Jim, a teacher in one of our county’s public schools has been exposed as a rouge guide! Brian Morrison, male, age thirty-three, managed to keep his identity secret for twenty years, ten of them spent working as a high school English teacher.”

“Yes Jan, this is quite the surprising story, one can only imagine the levels of self-afflicted damage to Mr. Morrison’s physical and mental health. We need to continue to spread awareness of the importance of turning yourself and/or suspected guides into the tower, the only place that can provide for guide and sentinel needs.”

“Jim, you are exactly right! There is this stigma these rouge guides feel towards the tower and Sentinel/Guide bonding. And well ‘rouge guides’ I have a message for you. Sentinels don’t just rely on guides! Guides rely on sentinels too! Guides are biologically engineered to respond to sentinel emotional signals and pheromones, biologically engineered to need sentinel touch and reassurance.”

“Jan, I couldn’t agree more. And not to overstate your point, but do you know how Mr. Morrison was found, and how most rouge guides are in fact found? There’s really a lot of misunderstanding about this. Not to reveal any guide hunt tactics, of course this can all be found with a quick internet search anyway, but most rouge guides are not discovered because they get caught using their empathic projection on others, as many believe, but actually because they get caught responding to sentinel emotional signals or pheromones. And this is exactly what happened with our Mr. Morrison. Now the initial search was called because a nearby tower guide sensed an unknown guide projecting, but Mr. Morrison was actually discovered when he released guide pheromones in response to sentinel pheromones emitted by the search team.”

“Yes Jim, if only Mr. Morrison had given into his instincts sooner. And some of our listeners may be wondering how Mr. Morrison ‘got his sentinel fix’ while he was in hiding. It is being reported that he regularly visited gyms frequented by sentinels and had one sentinel relative. He used these sentinels without their knowledge to fulfill his biological needs.”

“Well Jan, we know he must have been pretty skilled at empathic projection if he remained undetected for so long. We, including Mr. Morrison, are lucky that he slipped up today, and I am sure the Tower is looking forward to welcoming a powerful new guide.”

At first, Jazz thought it was all a load of bull shit. Biological imperative what? Pheromones what? He’d been there too, and Jim, there had been no pheromones calling out to him. And emotional signals, what kind of idiot would ever risk blowing their cover to respond to those? He couldn’t believe the tower was even bothering to play their propaganda on his local news channel. 

And then the next day there was an unprecedented school-wide Guide/Sentinel test. Normally they did it by grade, so this time it took the whole day. Everyone had an individual screening with a Sentinel and Guide team from the tower. Participation was mandatory and Jazz figuring skipping would only heighten suspicion.

So he took the test, which was pretty much the same as always, letting some lap-dog guide feel around his head while he responded to a bunch of different sensory stimuli. It seemed a little fancier this time, and they also asked a bunch of questions about Mr. Morrison, but all he had to do was not put his wall up and he was fine, easy peasy. What kind of losers actually got caught by this? I mean, you had to be trying to get caught, right?

That was when Jazz realized it. He was no ordinary guide.

He was a chameleon, a master of disguise. His powers were so great that he could stand in a crowd of tower guides and sentinels and remain undetected.

* * *

“Sentinel Leary, congratulations to you and your team on a successful capture. Mr. Morrison is quite a powerful guide, I’m sure whoever the matchmaker finds to be his sentinel will be the envy of the tower.”

Sentinel Thompson, the head officer of the local county’s tower greeted his subordinates in his office. The past few days had been quite busy for the relatively quiet suburban jurisdiction. 

But a quick look at his subordinates faces, however, showed they weren’t exactly jumping to join the excitement.

“Sentinel? Is there something wrong?”

Sentinel Leary looked back at his guide.

“Sir, I think it is better if Melissa explains.”

Melissa, Sentinel Leary’s guide, waited for a nod of permission before stepping forward.

“Sentinel Thompson. There are a few details regarding Mr. Morrison’s capture that don’t quite fit the puzzle. Starting from the empathic projection that alerted us to the rouge guide presence. We were sure it was that of a newly awakened young guide from its unfocused, weak strength and the fact that no shields were used. It matched the type of unskilled projection new untrained guides accidentally use that often leads to their discovery. A seasoned, powerful guide like Mr. Morrison would be able to use shields to narrow the detection of their projection to at least a few square feet.”

Sentinel Thompson considered his subordinate’s concerns. “What did Mr. Morrison say about this? I assume he has been questioned.”

“Mr. Morrison’s story was well, equally puzzling. He stated he’d thought he’d felt a projection from a student, and he believes that he accidentally projected back instead of blocking it. But then he stated that the student ended up not being a guide. At first, we thought it probable that he was covering something up, but our guide interrogation specialists detected no lies, although Mr. Morrison did appear to be very confused about the subject himself. We, of course, privately investigated and tested the said student involved during the school search, and it appears to be as Mr. Morrison says but...”

“This does sound like a fishy situation. But while you say the target rouge should be a weak new guide, wouldn’t it take an extremely powerful guide to fumble Mr. Morrison’s mind and avoid detection? Mr. Morrison’s testimony seems to be the likeliest and simplest explanation.” Sentinel stroked his beard in consternation. He saw why the case had peaked his subordinates’ concerns. However, he feared he’d just be wasting resources if he sent them out on a wild goose chase. 

Melissa nodded in acquiescence. “That may be sir, but I thought it best to report the situation, as it is quite unordinary. And well,” she stumbled, losing a bit of her professional poise, “there was something about it that didn’t sit right with me and the guides on our team.”

“Well I’m sure if there is a young guide on the loose they’ll reveal themselves again soon enough. There aren’t many opportunities to contact sentinels around here without detection, now that we’re placing tower guides at gyms. And there was already a program underway to educate sentinels on how to detect rouge guides within their families that might be using them to fulfill biological imperatives.” Sentinel Thompson straightened, flashing a smile to Sentinel Leary, “You and your team did good work. I’m sure we’ll have another guide in our hands in no time.”

* * *

The Mr. Morrison debacle marked the start of Jazz’s ascent into debauchery.

Mr. Morrison was an important lesson for him. He learned that he wasn’t completely untouchable, just mostly. The one thing he tried to avoid was other guides; if he tried to get into their heads, they could detect him. They could also detect his projections, but they usually couldn’t pinpoint them to him immediately, especially if they were far away.

The thing was, he couldn’t detect guides, like at all. Or sentinels, but they didn’t give him much trouble, so he didn’t worry about them anyway.  
Luckily guides and sentinels made up like .01 percent of the population or something, so he wasn’t really running into them left and right.

Well, by the time he was twenty-four he’d ended up getting caught a few more times by undercover tower guides who’d felt his projections, but they’d let him go after his tests came back negative. That made it seem like he was using his super mind powers all willy nilly, but Jazz wasn’t so brash and immature. He realized that with a gift as great as this, he needed to use it responsibly. 

He’d sworn a solemn oath to himself to only use it for money and chicks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> FYI, I don't think this work will be very long. I am planning on around 5 chapters because I actually want to be able to finish it :)


	2. Val

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had this chapter mainly written! I don't think the next ones will come out as fast.

“Sentinel, welcome back, I hope your mission went well.”

Saiya addressed her superior upon his return to the office.

His eyes lit up at her greeting, the reaction followed by a bright smile and wave.

“Saiya, Good morning! They just love dragging me all over the country, or well, the world, but this time the job wasn’t too bad. It’s nice to be back home!”

“That’s good to hear Sentinel,” she nodded, unable to match his level of energy.

“Hey, I told you to stop with that Sentinel stuff. You’re a sentinel too! And we’re on the same team, no need for that,” he clapped an easy hand on her shoulder.

Saiya sighed. She could remind him, that yes they were on the same team, but he was also the leader of that team—as well as one of the most highly regarded, powerful sentinels in the country. She’d felt awkward at first working under and kowtowing to someone who was barely twenty years old, but social hierarchy based rules and conduct were extremely important in the tower. And well, she'd also seen him in action, and knew by now that the young man wasn't all blue skies and sunshine. He had earned her respect in his own right.

“Sentinel Val, I have an update I’d like to report.”

The sentinel frowned at her indirect refusal of his request, but Saiya didn’t think he’d push it.

“Fine then…but I do like it better when you add my name. I’ll just have to keep working to get the Sentinel part out!”

Saiya again, just nodded. At least she knew he wasn’t stupid enough to try these things with guides. A mated guide calling another sentinel by their first name—their sentinel would go berserk.

“So what’s the update?”

Saiya refocused, “We’ve identified a suspect for the serial scammer case we were reviewing before you were called out for duty.”

Sentinel Val furrowed his brow, looking like he was digging in the back of his brain to remember the particular case. He was always being called off on special missions, she figured it wasn’t surprising if he couldn’t immediately remember all the dull cases they worked on here on home base.

“Ah!” he pointed a finger in triumph, “That guy that was selling worthless things door to door and tricking people into buying them for inordinate amounts of money! This is great news! There’s a high likelihood he’s a rouge guide using projection to influence the victim’s decisions. Pretty sloppy for a rouge though. I knew we’d find him soon! Good work!”

“Yes, well,” she hesitated, “if you come over here I can show you their file.”

Sentinel Val followed her as she made her way over to her computer screen where she had the suspect’s profile pulled up.  
Male. 24 years old. Unemployed. Testing record:

“As you can see, the suspect has been tested several times. He’s even been detained and undertaken the test by specialist teams in the tower, but all tests have come out negative.”

Sentinel Val scrutinized the screen, eyes locking in on the suspect’s head shot.

“He looks like a guide.”

Saiya didn’t know how to respond to that. It was now known that there were no exterior physical features that could identify one as a guide.

She decided to continue, “We will of course test the suspect once again when he is arrested and detained. However, given the almost impossibility of the suspect turning out to be a guide, and the fact that victim testimony shows all of the signs of guide mind manipulation, I believe it is highly likely that our suspect was working with a rouge guide to pull off his scams.”

Sentinel Val’s eyes still looked to be caught on suspect’s picture.

“Hmm…I guess you’re right. It is a very weird case though. Even if they are more of the accomplice to the crime, it’s not often that you see rouge guides so obviously using their powers.”

“I suspect there may be blackmail involved.”

“Do we have the paperwork done to make the arrest?”

“All done sentinel. Suspect does not have a registered address. He is known to move around, living off whichever woman he is currently dating. We may have to track him.”

Saiya didn’t think the suspect would be hard to find. She was surprised he didn’t already have a criminal record with how sloppy he was.  
But her chest pounded with excitement as she waited for her superior to give the okay.

This scammer was just another bottom-of-the-barrel low-life criminal. He could easily be handled by the regular police. Wasting tower resources on him was almost an insult.

Tied to him though, somehow, was the real prize.

A rouge guide. A hunt.

* * *

Shit.

Jazz was officially on the run.

He’d just gotten a call from his last girl, Suzie. The tower had interrogated her about him. When she’d first said that, he hadn’t taken it too seriously. He’d been caught by the tower enough times to know he could evade detection as a guide.

But then she started going on about scamming and how she hadn’t known he was a criminal, and how she couldn’t believe all the dates he’d taken her on were bought with dirty money.

And then he got scared.

He tried not to do anything too illegal. Or that could be proven to be illegal. He could always get at least momentary compliance from whoever he was swindling. But he had slipped up a few times and had some run-ins with police. Regular police, who he could just “convince” to let him go, and then make a run for it.

Tower law enforcement though, that wouldn’t work on them.

He thought they only did military/spy missions, super high-level criminal cases, and then rouge guide hunts when the occasion arose.  
Jazz had never thought the tower would ever be after him just as a petty criminal.

And to be honest, he was pretty confident in his powers, but he wasn’t going to take his chances fighting the tower’s sentinel/guide teams.

He was booking it for sure.

Jazz was about to board the train headed out of the city. He’d have to go to the countryside, somewhere bumfuck nowhere. There was literally no one else at the platform other than him, because who else other than a runaway would want to go to bumfuck nowhere?

He didn’t plan on staying there any longer than he had to. Jazz was headed out of the country as soon as he could. Shit, this was like what those legendary guides had to do.

Well, he was a legendary guide himself, so he didn’t know why he was surprised. Did this mean that he would need a disguise now? Sentinels had super good vision, so he’d have to work hard to trick them. He supposed he might also want to try out different walking styles and gates. Oh, and he’d have to start trying out cool, new accents. He’d seen a movie when the sentinel lead had caught a criminal mastermind though his voice. Vocal recognition was becoming a problem.

Jazz continued to strategize as his train came into view from a distance.

Guides couldn’t do shit to find him. That wasn’t their thing. Sentinels were his enemy. His enemy had super-heightened senses, but he pretty much had that covered right? Throw off their eyes with disguises, throw off their ears with voices, throw off their noses with—

“Jackson Singer. Remain where you are with your hands up. You are under arrest under the authority of the tower.”

The woman’s voice coincided with the screech of the train arriving at the platform.

Jazz glanced over his shoulder.

A sentinel. A guide behind her. More following, maybe.

This was bad. There were only a few feet between them.

Fuck Fuck Fuck.

He’d have to pull off something really cool. He didn’t move, hoping for some grand idea to light up in his mind.

“Jackson, this will be easier if you don’t resist. We are ready to ease your charges if you cooperate with our investigation. Hands in the air.”

Jazz bit his lip. The lady sentinel was totally his type, but she was the enemy, so it couldn’t be helped.

He closed his eyes and summoned all of his power to reach out with his mind, focusing all of his energy to project one thought. _Tired. You’re so tired. Go to sleep. Fall. You’re so tired. Fall_.

The sentinel looked confused, thrown off for a second, but didn’t fall. The guide’s eye’s fixed on him with shock.

Shit. The guide must’ve blocked the attack.

“Stop where you are!” The sentinel reached for her sidearm, pursuing with a new aggression when he eyed the train behind him.

The automatic doors beeped in warning.

Jazz guessed it was time for plan B. He’d just have to stop Miss Sentinel and Mister Guide the old fashion way. In a sweep of motion, Jazz threw out his hard-case luggage right in the Sentinel’s face and lunged to enter the train car right as the doors closed.

He ducked as soon as he entered, just in case the Sentinel really was going to shoot him with something.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he was certain he was in the clear. Fuck, he was amazing.

This made things much more complicated though.

Smell. He’d forgotten about smell. How could he have forgotten, that’s like the main thing in all the movies, hiding your scent and all. He’d have to work on that and fast.

* * *

“Sentinel Saiya, should we pursue him from the next station?”

Saiya stared at the retreating train, pulling out her phone.

“No, I think they can handle it. We can go ahead and head back to the tower, just let me inform him of the target’s movements.”

This was turning out to be more of an effort than she wanted it to be for a mere petty criminal’s arrest, but it would more annoying if they had to chase the target over a far distance. Better to put in the effort to catch him early. If there wasn’t a potential guide hunt attached there was no way she’d do all this.

Saiya sighed dialing the number. The support guide looked stressed about something, but she’d have to deal with it later.

“Sentinel Val. He boarded the train. He entered through car 6. He knows he is being pursued. I’m turning it over to you. Over.”

* * *

Okay, he’d just doused himself in soap and sanitizers from the bathroom, so the smell thing should be good. Now he had to go mind roofie the conductor and anyone else who the tower could contact to stop the train. Wow, this really was like a movie.

Jazz sauntered out the bathroom, making his way to the front of the train. The train was, unsurprisingly, super empty. A few sleeping old people. They probably wouldn’t even wake up if the conductor made an announcement that there was a fugitive on the train. Also, he was pretty sure he could take them even if they did wake up, mind powers or no.

He’d lost his suitcase, so he’d have to fight with his fists though.

Jazz held out his hands to examine them, glancing over his fingernails when the connecting doors slid open in front of him.

And then he was face to face with a blonde pretty boy, who was radiating so much emotion that he could sense it fully without taking out his feelers.

And who was also walking straight towards him with an intense purpose.

Jazz cursed under his breath.

But no, the man was in civilian clothing. Maybe he was just rushing to the bathroom. And it was a train, so there was no way to walk but straight really.

Jazz moved to sit down somewhere to get out of the guy’s way.

But before he could, he was grabbed and pulled into a….hug? a warm embrace?

Oh no, the guy was crazy, his emotions were coming in all fuzzy and loopy, like in the same way Jazz remembered annoying preteen couples felt back when he was in school.

Something was deeply wrong.

“Hey man, uh, you okay?” Jazz asked from underneath the crushing weight of the young man’s arms.

“I knew it. I thought you were, the moment I saw you.”

Oh shit. This was not good. Jazz knew his charm and good looks were enchanting, but now was not the time. This random dude had gone and fallen in love with him at first sight. Well Jazz, appreciated it, but he was strictly a ladykiller.

“Hey, I’m sorry but—” The man cut him off.

“I knew you were when I saw your picture.”

“My picture?” This was getting weird. The man’s embrace was somehow getting tighter.

“I knew you were a guide, but I didn’t know you were my guide. Not till this moment. Not until I saw you with my own eyes.”

Jazz froze, going limp in the man’s arms as he pressed his face into Jazz’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck, his gland.

A wave of terror shook through him as the man’s words sunk in.

This had never happened before. This was new territory. He’d never come this close to being…and this guy, he was clearly not lucid.

Jazz didn’t know if that would work in his favor or not.

“S—sentinel,” he croaked out, afraid of being right.

When he felt a burst of happiness from his captor, true terror set in.

“Yes, your sentinel. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I forgive you. I’ll protect you.” The guy started rubbing his back, nuzzling deeper into his neck.

Fuck Fuck Fuck.

If this fucker bit him, it was over. If he really was a sentinel, one bite was all it would take to mark him. And once he was marked, every sentinel would know he was a guide.

How did this guy know he was a guide?

No one had ever discovered him before. He’d walked through the tower facilities, filled with guides and sentinels and gone completely undetected.

Why would his disguise suddenly break? Could this guy just be bluffing? Or crazy?

Either way, Jazz needed to get out of here. Fast.

He closed his eyes and focused.

 _You’re confused_ , he projected the idea with as much force as he could. _I’m not a guide. Let me go. You’re confused, you made a mistake. Let me go. Let me go!_

Jazz felt the man’s arms loosen around him. Before immediately trapping him with even stronger force, making Jazz let out an involuntary yelp.

“No! I won’t let you run away!” the elated happiness was gone, replaced with a dark fury. The pressure was now hurting him, and Jazz let out an even more pathetic whelp. His ribs felt like they were going to bruise.

“Let me go! Let me go! I’m not a guide, I’ll prove it just let me go, please! You’re hurting me!” Jazz begged, pounding his fists and writhing about helplessly. He would suffocate, he would die. His mind muffled in fear, he couldn’t think straight enough to project again.

Then, he was released from the imprisoning embrace, celebrating a brief moment of freedom before his shoulders were captured in another bruising grip.

The sentinel forced him to meet his eyes, staring down at him with an almost feral expression.

“Why are you lying? You’re mine! Why? Say you’re mine!” He yelled, the angry emotions he was releasing tinging with hurt and desperation.

Jazz tried again to twist away, but was only met with more force as the man threw him to the ground, pinning his body on top of him.

“You’re mine! Mine! Why? Why won’t you accept me? Can’t you see? Say you’re mine!” his voice was switching between furious growls and desperate pleading.

The more Jazz fought to break free the greater the force holding him down became.

“Mine, mine, mine” the sentinel was now growling on repeat, digging his face into his shoulder. It was like he was slowing losing his aptitude for language, regressing into primitive speech patterns.

Amidst his struggle, Jazz wondered if he’d accidentally fried the guy’s brain.

The lick of a tongue on his neck somehow pulled him back into focus enough to manage another projection.

 _You made a mistake. I’m not your guide. Your guide is over there. Hurry, quick, run over there. Your guide needs you. I’m not_ —

“No! Mine!” the man shouted with the same hurt fury.

In one motion Jazz’s arms were pinned to the ground and a face was swooping down on his neck.

And then the next moment he felt his attacker’s muscles relax on top on him.

“Project calm onto your sentinel, guide. I can’t take him down from this without you.” A new voice shouted down at him from somewhere in the train car.

It took Jazz a moment to realize what had happened. A guide. A guide was projecting to calm the crazed sentinel.

Normally, guides scared the fuck out of him, but Jazz welcomed this one like a guardian angel. He felt a sudden swell of hope.

“Please! This isn’t my sentinel! I’m not a guide! This is all a big mistake! Please help!” he called out pleadingly to the stranger.

And then found himself summarily put back underneath the full force of the attacking sentinel.

“Idiot! Stop resisting!” the guide shouted at him in frustration, quickly turning to focus on the sentinel. “He’s yours, you have him, you have him, you have him,” they whispered soothingly, while ostensibly projecting calm.

The guide’s actions surprisingly worked, and the sentinel again began to relax. Just a bit more and he’d be able to escape, Jazz thought, optimistically. But the guide zeroed in on him again the second he had the sentinel under a semblance of control.

“Stop rejecting him moron! He’ll just go more feral, do you want him to take you here, right now! And help me! Project calm, it won’t work with just me.”

With his line of vision becoming slightly less blocked and the absence of a sentinel hand shoving his nose into the floor, Jazz could now make out the face of the guide shouting orders at him.

It was the guide from the train station. The tower guide out for his arrest.

The hopelessness of the situation dawned on him then. Obviously, it should have dawned on him earlier, because no guide would just save him and let him go.

Because he was a guide. A dirty criminal and a guide.

This was not how Jazz had seen his end. They all got caught sooner or later, he knew that, he’d known that from the beginning. He’d seen the movies.

But he’d imagined a real cat and mouse chase, espionage, disguises, drama, betrayal.

And maybe he had thought that he wouldn’t be. Maybe he had thought he was invincible. It had seemed like it, hadn’t it?

He didn’t want to get caught, he realized, much more strongly than he’d ever let himself before.

He didn’t want to be caught.

Jazz screamed.

“I’m not a guide! Let me go! Let me go!”

_I’m not a guide! Let me go! Let me go! I’m not a guide! You’re wrong! You made a mistake! I’m not a guide! I’M NOT YOURS!_

Jazz didn’t know how lucky he was that the rest on the team showed up to the train car with tranquilizers in time.

* * *

Sentinel Val’s team stood milling about their leader’s hospital room, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

“A soul bond…of course Sentinel Val would be so lucky to find his one true guide,” Sentinel Saiya muttered out loud. The room was pretty quiet. No one had been expecting such a simple arrest to turn into such a big event.

Of course, meeting one’s soul bond, one’s perfect sentinel or guide pair was a joyous occasion, as it rarely happened. Most sentinels just settled for the most compatible guide they could find. This was truly a miracle, a thing to celebrate.

But the room hung in awkward silence.

Another sentinel spoke up.

“…But if it was a soul bond then why…if it was a guide then why…”

The sentinel beside him stepped in to help, stating it directly, “There were no guide pheromones. There’s no way he could cover his scent for so long with a sentinel at close range calling out like that.”

The three present sentinels nodded at one another, silently affirming reasonability for their individual unease and confusion.

“Also, well,” the only present guide spoke up, “He didn’t respond to any of Sentinel Val’s emotional distress signals. He resisted. With the state Sentinel Val was in, that would be almost impossible for any guide, let alone his soul bond.”

The guide sensed an intense wave of fear and doubt flood the room at his words, and carefully pushed it back.

“That guide is definitely not normal. But he is also without a doubt a guide. I sensed him project, on an empty train in the middle of nowhere where I was the only other guide. And I also don’t think Sentinel Val would go trying to claim some random normal human. This wasn’t a mistake.”

The room visibly relaxed again, the worst scenario event of a normal human being accidentally attacked averted. The mood even became a bit brighter, with tings of happiness for their leader.

Remembering the scene from under an hour ago, glancing down at the two sedated figures in the train car, the guide couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. This wasn’t going to be good.

Something told him that it would have been better for both the sentinel and guide had the two of them never met one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like switching perspectives sometimes, what can I say.
> 
> Sorry to those of you who were expecting more of an enthralling game of cat and mouse. Jazz just isn't that smart lol.


	3. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos :)
> 
> This was in the last chapter, but Jazz's real name is Jackson. You didn't think I would make someone's real name 'Jazz Singer' did you?

“You are in a tightly secured facility literally filled with guides. What level of idiocy does it take to try to use mind projections in this situation?”

The older guide beside him lay a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Now Ben, settle down. At least now Jackson here has learned his lesson.”

Ben tried not to look petulant at the light admonishment, bowing his head in deference to the higher-ranking guide. He didn’t think she would have much patience for the new guy either though, once they got started. Why did it have to be his team leader that had gotten soul-bonded to a freak mutant guide?

“What projections! And how am I supposed to know where guides are? What am I, a magician?” the captured guide shouted out from where he was restrained on the medical bed. “I’m telling you for the millionth time, you made a mistake I’m not a guide!”

_You made a mistake. I’m not a guide. I’m not a guide._

Oh God. This was embarrassing. He was projecting again. And this time his target was one of the most powerful guides in their jurisdiction. Ben almost wanted to laugh, both at the stupidity of the attack and at how clearly untrained and weak it was. Maybe the corners of his mouth moved, because the rouge guide seemed to catch on to him.

“Hey, what are you laughing at lapdog! Traitor! You’re the one you kidnapped me and dragged me here!”

“Ha,” Ben smiled, “Kidnapped? You mean arrested? You would be behind bars right now if you hadn’t turned out to be a guide. Do you want to go to jail that badly?”

“I’m talking about the part where you tranquilized me asshole! And yeah, a nice spacious cell seems nicer than being tied to a chair!” The guide tried to lift his head up to glare at him, but didn’t manage to look at all threatening.

The tower had decided it best to separate the rouge guide from Sentinel Val until they figured out how to approach the situation. And the situation was well, unclear. Which was why Guide Lena, a powerful matchmaker guide, had been called upon to advise them. And Ben, he’d just happened to have been the only guide at the scene, so he’d been dragged in as well, as if he was suddenly some kind of expert.

Guide Lena was looking between the two of them and suddenly Ben felt embarrassed of his juvenile behavior, allowing such a lowbrow rouge to egg him on.

He sensed her project a light calm around the room before turning to address the restrained guide.

“Jackson, your projections won’t work here. We know you’re a guide. It will be easier for everyone if you cooperate will us, seeing as your case is a bit…special.”

Ben hoped the guide would listen to her words of reason, but he’d been stuck in the room with him since he’d regained consciousness, and based on that experience, he had a hard time being optimistic.

Surprisingly though, for a moment, Jackson appeared uncharacteristically subdued.

“Hey…are you? Did you just use magic on me?” the guide asked, tone half confused, half accusatory.

Guide Lena gave Ben a rare uncertain look before answering, “Jackson, I just projected calm in the room, to help everyone relax. It’s a standard thing guides do, nothing deceptive. Could you not sense it?”

Jackson raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean? Didn’t I just say I sensed it, sensed that you’re trying to make me loopy?”

Guide Lena projected calm again, except this time targeted at only Ben.

“Jackson, did you sense what I did just now?”

“Uh no. I can’t sense guides…I mean I’m not a guide so why would I be able to.”

Ben let out an exasperated sigh, “Still going on with that? Can you please just give up already. We’re trying to help you, you know. Whether you’re a guide or not, one of our top sentinels has recognized you as his bond, so the tower’s not going to just let you go.” He couldn’t help but add, “And if they did, you’d be going straight to prison.”

“Ben is correct,” Guide Lena followed, “about needing to move forward. We can’t keep Sentinel Val sedated forever, and if he wakes up without his bond next to him…there is no telling what he’ll do. We need to figure out a short-term strategy at least.” She turned to the restrained guide, who was not looking happy, “Jackson, can you answer a few questions for me?”

The guide was clenching his fists.

“How about you answer some questions for me first. This Valentine guy I keep hearing about, he better not be that psycho who assaulted me on the train. My ribs are bruised. My whole body is bruised.” A surge of distress and anger radiated off him. He shook his head, “Actually, never mind, I don’t give a damn who he is, because I don’t remember being bonded to anyone, and don’t plan to be.”

Guide Lena gave him a sympathetic gaze.

“So it’s true. He can’t feel the bond.”

Ben nodded seriously, “It’s more than that. Given what I observed during their encounter, he can’t, or doesn’t know how to, respond to pheromones or emotional stress signals. Which—”

“Would cause any sentinel to fall into an aggressive and violent feral state,” she finished for him. “This is going to require more work than I thought. And we don’t have much time. I’m amazed the tower has authorized keeping Sentinel Val under for this long as it is.”

“Hey!” Jackson shouted from between them, “I don’t see what the big dilemma is here. If I somehow make this guy violent, then shouldn’t you, I don’t know, keep us separated? And let me go.”

Guide Lena shook her head, “No, I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

“So you’re just going to throw me to the wolves with that, monster?” He tuned to Ben, as if he was going to help plead his case, “You saw him, he was crazy! He could’ve killed me, that psycho!”

Ben put his foot down.

“Jackson, Sentinel Val was in a feral state, which _you_ put him in. He’s not like that at all normally. Also, you should refrain from referring to your sentinel, or any sentinel, with such language. That’s not going to help you here.” He explained coolly. Sentinel Val was his team leader, and there was only so much insult to the man that he could take. Especially when Jackson’s characterization of him was just so wrong.

“Ben, remember Jackson doesn’t know our social rules and customs yet. Before throwing everything at him at once we should focus on some simple rules to—”

“Oh, I know everything about your little pet/owner dynamic here. And I’m going to give it a hard pass!”

“Jackson!” Ben was coming to the end of his rope. “Will you shut up and listen! Because what happened back there on the train is not a tenth of what could happen to you if you don’t do what Guide Lena tells you. Because you’re going back to Sentinel Val. And if you act like you are now, no matter how good and kind of a person he is, his instincts won’t stop him from beating you into submission.” He stepped closer to the guide, close enough so that he was almost leaning over him, breathing down his neck “Get it?”

* * *

“Guide Lena, I apologize if some of my behavior back there came across as…brash. Next time I will try to control myself better. It was unbecoming of a guide.”

The older guide smiled at Ben’s apology.

“No need to apologize Ben. It’s a misconception that guides can perfectly control their own emotions. Reality is quite the opposite. Though I do wonder,” she looked up at him curiously, “what it was about that young guide that got you so worked up.”

Ben paused, taken aback.

“I don’t quite know what you mean. He was just rude and annoying. Most rogues are, but he’s on another level.”

Guide Lena didn’t push for anything more, shrugging her shoulders, “Oh? Was that it?” She continued, “Well I just pray he follows our instructions. We’ll have a team of guides monitoring the room of course. I fear it may be difficult for our fellow guide, but I think he is of better mind now that he is more aware of the situation.”

“Yes, let us hope for the best.”

With that he and Guide Lena parted, and Ben was finally able to leave and get some rest. He’d been half afraid he’d be put on duty to monitor the room as well, but it looked like they were giving him a break.

Guide Lena’s words prickled in the back of his mind.

Was there something about the rouge guide that worked him up?

His blatant disrespect . His blind disregard for consequences. Lack of comprehension or understanding of anything about the tower or guides and sentinels. No thought towards the ethical use of his powers.

That had pissed him off. The fact that he didn’t do things that were so obvious, and therefore hurt others around him in the process.

Ah, now he remembered. Who the guide reminded him of. It was just too similar.

A deep sense of unease once again came over him.

No, the situation was not the same. Things could work out better for them. Sentinel Val would ensure it.

* * *

“Sentinel Val will be coming to shortly. We will leave you alone now, but know that we will be monitoring everything from outside. You should be touching him as he wakes; if he doesn’t immediately sense your presence, he may become aggressive.”

The nurses, or guides? left him with final instructions before abandoning him to his doom.

He assumed they locked the door on the way out.

Jazz glanced over at the sleeping figure on the opposite side of the room. He should be touching him, huh? That sounded dirty. And normally that kind of thing was cool, but not in this situation, so he was just going to go ahead and interpret that as pure, chaste contact. Maybe with a ten-foot pole.

Jazz swallowed, eyeing the distance between himself and the sleeping giant.

_“If you run away, he will chase you down. Make him feel you accept him, and he won’t have the need to force you.”_

Right. The whole time those lapdog guides had been spieling, Jazz had been inwardly cursing them out. But, he winced at the sting of his bruised rib underneath his shirt, now maybe wasn’t the time to second guess them. Maybe, he could just do this now, and dig himself out afterwards.

He cautiously made his approach towards the sleeping figure, hesitating before taking the final step to the sentinel’s bedside.

His assaulter slept peacefully, chest rising and falling with each steady breath. Looking upon his face, Jazz was struck with just how young he looked. Was he even twenty?

It was a nice face, he had to admit. It looked much nicer like this than it did when it was growling and slobbering all over his neck. Jazz shook his head, shaking the memories away. He liked the sentinel better like this. Maybe he should never wake up.

Jazz looked over to see a chair pulled up by the sentinel’s bedside and begrudgingly sat down in it. Ugh he was going to look like a dedicated lover refusing to leave their partner’s side as they battled to recover from some terrible illness.

Okay, now just pick a body part and touch it. Wait, no that sounded like some weird sex bingo game. Jazz started reaching out towards the sentinel, eyeing a hand slipping out from the covers. This was so gay. Now he was like one of those nurses holding the hand of some poor young wounded soldier boy as he drew his last breaths in this world. Huh, he kind of liked that one actually.

The Sentinel’s skin was warm as he brushed his fingers over their hand, hesitantly laying his hand atop the other’s.

And then a light, glowing warmth was pouring into the room.

Jazz reached to pull his hand back, having flashbacks, but found he’d moved too slowly, as strong fingers locked around his own.

Instinctually, he pulled back to free himself. He realized the mistake in that a split second later when he was summarily yanked on top of the bed, and then, to his horror, trapped in a familiar pair of muscular arms.

The sentinel’s warm, even breath blew down his shoulder blades.

What, did the rules apply even when the damn guy was asleep! That was so unfair!

The position did not feel great on his injuries, But Jazz was now afraid of what would happen if he even squirmed an inch. The guy might crush his lungs this time! He was really hoping to get out of this one unscathed. Then he would trick these losers into thinking that their tower brainwashing had worked only to hightail out of here to a country with better guide rights the moment they looked the other way.

But for now, Jazz was just going to pretend this guy was quicksand. Quicksand, quicksand, he repeated his new mantra. The more you struggle, the faster you sink.

Jazz was beginning to wonder if he might be trapped like this forever when he felt an intense burst of happiness and satisfaction, then arms, squeezing him further into a firm chest.

“Good morning,” A soft voice whispered behind his ear.

Jazz felt his spine go stiff. He was awake.

He fumbled, unsure of what to do; how do you greet a guy that bruised your ribs that also probably wants to take all your freedom away without pissing him off or “making him feel the bond is threatened” as they say.

“G-good morning,” Jazz finally stammered out, because how could you possibly go wrong with that. And what else was he supposed to say that wouldn’t break the rules. The Sentinel wouldn’t remember anything that had happened while he’d been in a feral state; Jazz wasn’t allowed to talk about how he’d been injured or say anything that hinted of rejection— at least if he didn’t want to trigger some terrible violent reaction.

Arms moved up his sides as the sentinel nuzzled his back.

Jazz knew there were more important things to think about at the moment, but he couldn’t help but be struck at that absurdity of some random guy snuggling up to him like a puppy. In what world was this okay to do to someone you just met with no consent? Why didn’t they put this part in all the sentinel movies!

“I-I want to see you” the sentinel almost whined, strong arms flipping Jazz over to face him.

And before Jazz could reorient himself, he was blinded by what felt like a burst of pure sunshine, face to face with a smile as bright as daylight.

“You,” the sentinel whispered, looking down at him as if he were god.

_“It is highly likely that Sentinel Val will be in a state of “bond drunkenness” for a short period of time when he awakens, since in his mind little time has passed since he discovered his soul bond. This should wear off soon.”_

So the guy was still all loopy like the lapdogs had said he’d be. Or Jazz hoped that was it. He hadn’t seen this sentinel act normal once, so really he could see it going either way. 

“Yes, me,” Jazz chose to interpret the word as a question.

The sentinel smiled, apparently satisfied with his answer.

“Your name?”

“Jazz.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay,” He replied, and Jazz was starting to think that the feral thing had just been part of it, and that this guy really could only speak in simple sentences and fragments.

Then the blonde smiled again, and Jazz felt himself almost forget how scary the kid could be.

“I’m so happy I found you.”

I’m not, he wanted to say so badly. But managed instead to reply with a simple “Yes,” and then squeezed his eyes closed as the sentinel leaned in to lovingly caress his face.

Quicksand. Quicksand. Quicksand.

When the sentinel’s nose pressed into the crook of his neck, there was a sharp break in the joyous atmosphere.

Suddenly the sentinel was bearing down on him with eyes filled with accusation.

“Guide. Why can’t I smell you?”

Jazz tried not to panic. They had warned him this would happen. He’d been given a play by play of what to do, but he wasn’t sure he could pull it off.

The emotions coming off the sentinel were nothing like the dark anger from the train, but he could feel that the sentinel was definitely waking up from his drunken state of dreamlike happiness.

He approached with caution.

“Sentinel,” he started. There was an upbeat reaction from that—god they were so simple. He continued, purposely making his voice shake, turning his face away in pretend shame, “I, It’s my fault. I don’t have a smell. I’m trying, b-but I can’t release it.”

Jazz hesitated, but then decided to add one final line.

“I’m so sorry. Your mate is broken,” he finished, wiping away non-existent tears.

There. He thought he’d covered most of the bases. Basically, they’d told him to call the guy “sentinel”, explain that it wasn’t on purpose, blame himself, say something that would reaffirm that he accepted their bond, blah, blah, blah. Pretty much, he just had to make the sentinel lean in more to the protective side of the bond.

Jazz blinked, looking up at the sentinel expectantly for some reaction.

A burst of affection flooded around him.

“No! You’re not broken,” the sentinel took him into his arms, “I’m sorry Jazz, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Jazz didn’t know if he should be relieved or scared at how well that had worked.

“Uh thanks,” he shrugged.

“But,” the sentinel paused, pulling away to look around the room, “The way you moved right now. You’re hurt. And I can sense guides outside monitoring us…then there’s also the fact that I woke up in the tower medical ward, and that I don’t remember anything beyond seeing you on the train.” He stared down at the bed, suddenly solemn. “Jazz,” he asked, looking up directly into his eyes “Did I do something bad to you before because I couldn’t smell you?”

_“Try to avoid talking about what happened, especially anything that hints of rejection.”_

Jazz really wanted to lay the truth into this guy right now, but remembered that that might not be such a great idea. Good thing he was a stellar actor.

“The arrest got a little violent. I was afraid if I got caught they’d put me in jail. And then on top of that I was a rouge, so I resisted the others,” Jazz explained, doing his best to keep things vague.

He heard the sentinel take a deep breath.

“I see, so you’re lying.”

“What!” Jazz balked, feeling a pensive, sober emotion wash over the room. He waved his hands in denial, “No! I mean, they told me to!”

Shit, his story was falling all over the place. And meeting his eyes, he could tell that the sentinel wasn’t buying it.

“Tell me the truth Jazz,” he ordered. It was the first time he’d said his name like that. In the way sentinels spoke to guides. It pissed him off, and in the next second he felt his anger get the better of him.

“Why,” he stuck his chin up, “so you can get angry and beat me up again, no thank-you!”

And then the atmosphere grew ten times heavier. And Jazz realized that he was supremely fucked now. He needed to recover his tracks, smooth shit over, but the Sentinel didn’t let him start, affirming his words before he could get a word in.

“So I did hurt you.”

Jazz paled. The sentinel didn’t react to his outburst with anger. He was looking down at him with a new expression, calculating, assessing. It made him want to squirm.

“No Sentinel…that was just…an expression?” Jazz tried.

The sentinel placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Jazz. I know this is fast, but I need to mark you.” Fear pooled in his stomach. “It’s not your fault, but your lack of pheromones is tugging at me. I’m controlling it now, but I don’t want to risk hurting you again. Once I mark you, it will be easier, since then you’ll smell like me. Most likely, the guides won’t let us out of here until I’ve marked you. I assume that was the tower’s plan for us.”

Jazz shook his head as he listened, realizing.

Those fuckers. He’d been tricked. How had he been so stupid? He wasn’t put in this room just so he could prevent some crazy rampage. They’d put him here so he could be marked, and therefor forever branded as this sentinel’s possession.

There would be no escape after that.

“Jazz?” the sentinel spoke his name, confused as to why his guide was staring down at the bed in abject horror.

“Jazz.” This time he spoke it with a little more force. “I need you to bare your neck for me.”

He clenched his fists. He’d seen what happened when he resisted this guy. But he couldn’t throw everything away here.

 _You have suddenly become very sleepy. You forgot what you were just talking about. You just want to sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep._ Jazz projected the thoughts with all of his strength. He’d put this sentinel to sleep. The guides would notice and they’d unlock to door to come in and check on them. That was when he’d make his escape.

“Jazz? What are you doing?” the sentinel reached for his hands in concern and confusion, appearing completely unaffected.

Why wasn’t it working? He repeated the same projection to no avail.

“Jazz!” the sentinel snapped. “I can feel you doing that. The guides outside are countering. Why are you trying to make me sleep? Actually, never mind. Just bear your neck. I can feel my instincts becoming frustrated.”

Damn guides, Jazz cursed under his breath. “Monitoring”. Yeah right, that was probably just a ruse too, to trap him here.

Jazz surveyed the room. He’d need a weapon. This dude was strong, but there was no other way if these guides were going to gang up on him and nullify his mind powers.

“Jazz.” The sentinel’s tone was serious, warning. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I can hear your heartbeat. I can see your eye movements searching around the room.” He took a breath, “You need to calm down right now and do what I say. Bear your neck Jazz. Now.”

Jazz could feel the sentinel’s restraint, as well as familiar tinges of desperation and anger threatening to flare up. If he resisted any further, he was looking at a repeat of what happened on the train. Except this time there would be no tranquilizers to save him from the bite.

But giving up was never so simple as that.

“No,” he whispered. A barely audible push, shoving the sentinel to the brink.

“Jazz! Please! Bear your neck!” the sentinel was yelling, pleading now, as if he were giving Jazz a chance to take back the word. A hand he’d placed on Jazz’s thigh was now digging into his skin.

And maybe he should’ve taken that chance, but Jazz wasn’t great at decision making.

“No!” he screamed, finally breaking away from his captor, scrambling off the bed.

“Why! I’m going to protect you!” The sentinel caught Jazz’s foot, sending him crashing to the floor with a of yelp pain. “You’re mine!”

Jazz was dragged back up to the bed as he struggled to escape, grasping at air. The same mixture of anger, fear, and possession once again enveloped the sentinel, and this time he wasted no time taking what he wanted. He quickly pinned Jazz’s arms down when he attempted to cover his neck, leaving him completely helpless as he screamed in protest.

And one second was all it took, for the teeth to pierce his skin, for his life to end.

He felt the effects of the bite reverberate through his body, screaming out in pain. The sentinel’s tongue lapped at the fresh wound.

It happened so fast, all Jazz could comprehend was the pain. He writhed underneath the sentinel’s weight, reaching out for anything to free himself.

In a moment, the weight was lifted, and Jazz was flipped over onto his back; the sentinel bent over him on his knees. Staring up at him vacantly, mind muddled with pain and fear, Jazz thought, what more could he do? And was answered by hands ripping off his clothes, tearing through the cloth like paper.

When the sentinel moved to free himself from his trousers, Jazz suddenly found his voice.

“N—” he almost said it before stopping himself. So far all he had to show for that word was more bruises.

If he wanted to get through this he had to be smart. He had to play by the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of that chapter was sooo hard to write!  
> Writing the dialogue is also really embarrassing, but really fun at the same time :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!


	4. Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret ending the last chapter in the middle of a scene. I feel like I might go back and edit things to flow better later.
> 
> In other news, I am relieved that I am back to my normal writing pace. I was scaring myself there for a second there.
> 
> Also, I added non-con elements to the tags, just in case.

It was huge.

Jazz couldn’t tear his eyes away from the grotesque thing in front of him.

They wouldn’t let him put that thing in him would they? He’d clearly die.

Not that size was the problem. He’d never swung that way, and even if he did, he would be the batter, if you knew what he meant.

The sentinel stared down at him, now openly touching himself, breath ragged, eyes dark, pupils blown out. He felt different now. Aggression was replaced by an almost predatory lust, maybe even pride, like a predator admiring his kill.

“Mine.” The sentinel said, this time with no hint of anger or desperation. Like it was a fact. A claim he was about to prove.

He reached out with one hand to touch the bite wound on Jazz’s neck in an oddly gentle gesture. Like a wolf nicely petting a sheep as it ripped out its throat.

Jazz flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that would make the hand go away. With pain from the bite still wracking through his body, he couldn’t really think straight anymore. All he knew was that he wanted to get away.

The sentinel started tracing the outlines of the wound, eyes fixating on his neck. Basically jacking it while finger painting with his blood.

“Mine.” he said again, moving closer, pressing Jazz into the mattress.

When Jazz tried to turn his head away, the sentinel grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look up at him.

This time he stared Jazz in the eyes as he said it, “Mine”.

And the pace of his arm was speeding up, like he was getting off at the terror in his eyes, at keeping him trapped here, suffocated beneath him.

So Jazz said the only thing he thought might make it stop.

“Yours,” he lied.

The sentinel looked at him with a bright intensity and released the hot and sticky substance onto his stomach.

Jazz lay in relief and humiliation for just a second, enough time to think it was over, before a possessive grip held him down again as teeth once more ripped into his throat.

This time, at least, he got to pass out.

* * *

Jazz woke up beneath an unfamiliar ceiling.

That wasn’t unusual for him when he was in between girls, frequenting clubs. It wasn’t even unusual for a man to be in the room, a furious lover or husband gearing up to break his neck.

However, waking up to a man sitting by your bedside gently stroking your hair was going to have to be a first.

“Good morning Jazz.” The blonde sentinel smiled down at him.

Jazz stiffened, mind going back to their last interaction.

The sentinel somewhat picked up on the reaction, pulling back to explain.

“Don’t worry! Now that I’ve marked and scented you I shouldn’t go feral anymore,” he waved his hands emphatically, “You can relax now. Everything is going to be okay from now on. They discharged us from the medical wing. And we’re going to see a tower specialist later this morning to figure things out.”

He pet Jazz’s head reassuringly.

Jazz stared up blankly at the ceiling as the sentinel’s hand ruffled his hair, not quite yet grasping what was happening.

Is this what gaslighting was? Jazz’s life had turned into a sequence of reoccurring nightmares, and this guy was talking to him like his was a little kid who’d just scraped his knee.

The sentinel looked awake and focused now, nothing like the feral or bond drunk versions he’d encountered before. But that didn’t really make Jazz feel like he could relax and what, go with the flow?

“Are you hungry? Oh, this is my apartment in the tower. Well, our apartment. Welcome to your new home.” The sentinel kept chattering on on his own, seemingly not noticing the absence of a response to his words. “I know, rouges can have a hard time adjusting, and well, normally there is a longer selection process before marking and bonding, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you and I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.”

The look of genuine love and determination in his eyes was sickening. But Jazz couldn’t just lay here and not say anything forever, as pleasant as the idea of wishing everything away was.

“Okay sentinel.” He replied, keeping it neutral.

Jazz didn’t know if the “no showing negative feelings toward the bond” or “no rejection” rules still applied now that the guides had fucked him over into getting marked, but he should probably tread carefully.

The sentinel shook his head, then pointed to himself with a smile.

“When it’s just the two of us, just call me Val.”

Jazz tilted his head, starting to sit up, “I thought you liked it when I called you Sentinel?” More like knew, since he’d literally felt the other’s reaction when he’d used the title before.

He picked up on a light tinge of embarrassment as the sentinel answered.

“I-I do, a part of me does, but I also want you to feel more comfortable around me.”

Ha, well that was impossible. But he also hated having to act like a servant referring to everyone in titles, so he guessed he’d take the sentinel up on his offer.

“Okay Val.”

The sentinel smiled in approval, “Thanks Jazz. Now are you hungry? I think we should eat something before seeing the doctor. You never know how long those things take.”

“Sure.”

He wasn’t really thinking about eating. Pancakes and waffles weren’t exactly the first things that came to mind when you were kidnapped and forcefully bonded to some volatile brute.

“Can you get up? I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

Jazz was happy to find there was no dried cum on his torso when he pushed back the covers. After thinking about it for a second though, he became suspicious about how that had come to be. Had this guy bathed him while he was unconscious? No, skip that, he didn’t want to know.

But if he had, that meant he remembered what he’d done after marking him.

Jazz’s eyes narrowed as he stepped out of bed, following a beckoning Val into the next room.

The sentinel wasn’t _acting_ like he remembered.

Val led him through the apartment to reach the kitchen. It was a nice apartment, nothing flashy, but Jazz could tell that the guy had money. He was too young to have made much on his own; must be some rich kid from one of those elite sentinel families. That piqued his interest a little at least.

“I have granola and fruit. There’s also oatmeal if you want that! I make smoothies a lot too. What do you want?” Val sat Jazz down at the kitchen table before starting to shuffle through the cabinets.

Jazz again, asked himself: was this gaslighting? Were they really just going to eat breakfast and pretend like nothing happened? And all of the breakfast choices sucked?

“Pancakes.” He stated, not bothering to turn around to look at the sentinel. “With syrup and whipped cream.”

Jazz felt a spike of panic from the sentinel at his request.

“I would prefer if you ate something more nutritious.” Val spoke after a moment of hesitation. “It’s my responsibility as your sentinel to make sure you’re healthy. Maybe I can find a healthy pancake recipe and make it for you some other time.”

Um, What.

Weren’t sentinels supposed to have really good vision or something. Could he not see the bandage around his neck? Or the bruising around his ribs? I mean, Jazz wasn’t wearing a shirt right now, so it should be pretty obvious right? But he thinks pancakes are the thing that are going to do him in.

Jazz tried not bang on the table, clenching his fists in frustration.

He felt like a child again, being told by his mom that he couldn’t eat junk food for dinner. Of course, those days hadn’t lasted; once his guide powers had awakened, Jazz had just manipulated his mom into forgetting what she saw or giving him permission to do whatever it was he’d wanted to do.

But he couldn’t do that here could he. He couldn’t fuck up. There could be guides outside for all he knew. And this sentinel, though he hated to admit it, however young and sparkly eyed he was, was pretty sharp. He’d probably realize later and then Jazz would be in deep shit. That didn’t mean it wasn’t fucking annoying though.

“Just give me whatever then.” Jazz managed through gritted teeth.

“Okay!” the sentinel beamed. “Just sit there, I’ll make it a surprise.”

Oh boy.

Jazz stared out the window as Val bustled around the kitchen behind him. Every once and so often he’d ask a question, and Jazz gave back lazy answers. Apparently he’d already seen his file and information earlier. The sentinel was slightly nervous when he alluded to his arrest attempt.

“So Jazz is short for Jackson?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No!” Val quickly refuted, “I think it’s really cool! It’s unique…is there a story behind that?”

“Not really,” Jazz rapped his fingers on the table, feeling hungry. “I guess Val is short for Valentine, huh.”

There was a tremble of excitement from the sentinel. Too afraid to risk triggering another feral attack, Jazz had been letting out his anger and frustration through being annoyingly passive. And now he’d accidentally made the sentinel think he was interested in knowing more about him.

“No actually, it’s just Val,” the sentinel laughed.

“Huh.”

“You can call me Valentine if you want though! When it’s just the two of us.”

The sentinel seemed excited at the prospect of that, so Jazz shot him down quickly.

“I think I’ll stick with Val.”

“Okay,” Val lamented the lost opportunity before falling into a more serious tone, “But when we’re in public, like when we go to the doctor today, remember to call me ‘Sentinel’, okay? The same goes for any other sentinel you address. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of things in no time! There are also special programs to help rouge guides get acclimated to tower life. I’m sure you’ll hear more about it from the doctor.”

“Got it.”

Jazz continued to mumble answers to the chirping little sentinel like that until breakfast was served. The plate put in front of him contained a spinach-egg scramble with a cute fruit salad on the side. He asked for coffee, because if he had to go though anymore of this without coffee he would die, and Val reluctantly made him some, murmuring something about how they would talk about weaning him off any caffeine addiction later. Jazz would have to bust out of here before that happened. 

After breakfast Jazz told Val he wanted to take a shower, and was quickly handed fresh clothes and a towel before being shown to the bathroom. Thankfully, the sentinel didn’t follow him in, and Jazz was able to enjoy a few moments alone. The shampoo and soaps were all sentinel safe, i.e. annoyingly scent free, but Jazz still felt slightly better after letting purifyingly hot water pour over him for fifteen minutes.

Stepping out of the shower, Jazz suspiciously eyed the boring black and grey standard tower outfit picked out for him. Everything was in his size, meaning that the sentinel had already had clothing prepared for him, a thought that Jazz didn’t like. He wondered if it would be bad to ask about his suitcase. The neutral colors worn in the tower weren’t really his style, but he’d take what he got for now.

Once he’d managed to dress himself, part of him wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and never come out. Eventually Val came knocking to check on him and he reluctantly opened the door.

Apparently they had to go see this specialist doctor soon. Jazz liked the idea of leaving the apartment, though it would be much better without the feral puppy in tow.

* * *

A middle-aged woman sat across from them, legs crossed, clipboard in hand.

“Well, it’s more complicated than this, but in layman’s terms, I think we can describe Jackson as the guide equivalent of a sociopath.”

Val gave the doctor a quizzical look, “But doesn’t he literally possess empathic powers? I thought sociopaths were incapable of empathy. And Jazz,” he looked over at his guide, “is well…maybe not the most caring, and he is a criminal who showed no remorse in tricking and stealing money from the elderly and vulnerable, but a sociopath…”

Who are you calling a sociopath?! Jazz wanted to jump out of his chair. The sentinel had told him to ‘leave the talking to him’, and that he could ‘just sit back and listen’ unless the doctor asked him any questions. Jazz knew enough to get that these little suggestions were just indirect ways of telling him to keep his mouth shut, so he was stuck having this twenty-one year old speak in his behalf unless he wanted to risk another outburst.

He fought not to roll his eyes as the doctor went on to explain the accusation.

“I’m not calling Jackson a sociopath, it’s just a simple comparison. It could be said, that while Jackson does indeed have empathic powers, he lacks empathy in how he uses them. Normal guides are compelled, biologically, to reach out with their empathy to help sentinels showing negative emotions or stress. Yes, strong, disciplined guides may be able to resist this urge for some amount of time, but eventually they will give in and even seek out sentinels to help. Jackson receives emotional signals, identifies them, but that’s where the process ends. He doesn’t feel the compulsion to react to them as other guides do.”

“Okay, I see.” Val nodded, “That makes sense. He may have some…mental disorder preventing him from responding correctly to emotional stimuli.”

Mental disorder! So he was really supposed to just sit here quietly while these two insulted him?

He wasn’t having that.

In a daring move, he reached out to tug on Val’s sleeve.

“Sentinel,” Jazz peered up at the blonde, “can I ask a question?”

The sentinel blinked back in surprise, quickly melting into a warm smile. Of course Jazz had picked up on how the sentinel liked it when he asked for permission.

Val patted his knee endearingly, “Of course, ask whatever you’d like. We’re here for you.”

Jazz pushed back, for now, the swell of renewed confidence in his ability to manipulate his way out of everything, and straightened himself to address the doctor and her bullshit.

“Could it be possible, Guide Dr. Franco, as it seems that all of these ‘disorders’ you are mentioning are hypothetical and metaphorical, that there are no actual prior cases or proper classification guideline for this diagnosis?” He put on his best impression of a staunchly polite tower guide. “Wouldn’t the more likely conclusion be that I was actually just a super powerful guide, to the level that I could resist urges to respond to sentinel emotional stimuli?”

As he spoke, he felt the sentinel beside him grow deeply uncomfortable. So much so that it seemed like the doctor might have projected calm onto him to ease his stress. Jazz was slowly learning that his sentinel was quite dramatic. He’d just pointed out some obvious flaws with the doctor’s claims, no one was going to die.

“Now, now, no need to worry, he’s going to figure it out sooner or later”, Dr. Franco spoke reassuringly to Val before turning her attention to Jazz, “This is, as Jackson states, a rare case, no doubt. However, there are a few holes in your self-diagnoses. Firstly, and I don’t mean to offend, and I stress that there is nothing at all wrong with this, we cherish you and your sentinel cherishes you just the way you are, but you are _not,_ by any measure, a powerful guide. Even if you underwent proper training to bring your abilities up to their full potential, you would be no match for our top guides here at the tower. It is doubtful you will ever reach the level to even go out in the field.”

What? Jazz couldn’t believe the gall of this woman. Clearly she had no idea what he was capable of. He’d been tap-dancing his way around tower sentinels and guides since he was fourteen!

He’d never been so insulted.

He was almost ready to give this lady a piece of his mind when found himself caught in a tight embrace.

The blonde sentinel was nuzzling into his shoulder, emitting something like protectiveness and sympathy, “It’s okay,” he whispered encouragingly, “I knew you were a weak guide, and I don’t care. I love every part of you. And it doesn’t matter if you’re weak, because you have me to be strong for you. I’ll protect you no matter what.”

Jazz’s anger only continued to boil as the sentinel serenaded him. Weak! Now they were calling him weak!

Dr. Franco side-eyed him with an amused pity before quickly concealing the expression. Bitch. He’d forgotten that she was also a guide. She’d been reading him this whole time. Tower guides were the real sociopaths, seeing one of their own truly in distress and doing nothing to help.

When Val had seemingly fussed over his guide for a sufficient amount of time, the doctor called for them to refocus, clearing her throat.

“See, nothing to worry about,” she smiled placatingly, “And even if the ‘super-powerful’ guide theory could explain being able to resist the compulsion to react to sentinel stimuli, there is another big piece of your condition that we have yet to mention.”

“Pheromones.” Val said immediately.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “Your guide doesn’t react to sentinel pheromones. While his body should possess the ingredients to produce pheromones, it appears he does not emit them when faced with any of the regular triggers.”

The sentinel felt distressed again, giving Jazz a flickering glance.

“He doesn’t…respond to any of my calls. It’s…he’s mine, I know he’s mine. His soul called out to me. And I know it’s not his fault, but…” 

The doctor appeared to once again project calm onto the sentinel as Val visibly relaxed.

She continued, “There is one other flaw with your guide’s theory. While not completely the same, there is one prior case of this condition. I will not lie to you and say that everything will be easy, but if we monitor things closely and take things one step at a time, nothing is stopping you from developing a healthy bond.”

Val seemed to brighten at the new information.

“I’ve never heard of a guide like that. Maybe we could arrange for them and Jazz to meet! It might be good for him,” he suggested excitedly, like he was arranging a play date for his shy kindergartner.

Jazz was less than interested. He had nothing to learn from a caught guide.

Dr. Franco tried to reel in the sentinel’s excitement. “I’m not sure how helpful that would be, though surely it could be arranged. You see, the other existing case of this condition is in a sentinel. You may have heard of him before. His name is Sentinel Calm.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! I know this is a weird story, so it gives me confidence to know there are people interested in reading it!


	5. Guide Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: nothing much really happens  
> featuring: me making shit up about guides
> 
> Also, in case any of you guys were wondering, I lied and this story is going to be more than 5 chapters because I'm bad at planning things out.

Two weeks had passed since he’d been imprisoned in the tower, and Jazz was bored.

Val had received “bond leave”, whatever that was, and was doing his best to get to know his new guide. This involved asking questions about every two seconds and Jazz answering in passive aggressive mumbles. Sometimes he got annoyed enough to show flashes of his real emotions, but Val didn’t seem to react much anyway, just smiled away as usual.

It was almost a little scary. Jazz felt as if he were waiting for the tiger to strike, for the camel’s back to break.

They slept in the same bed. Jazz didn’t dare complain about it. But Val didn’t touch him or hold him like he had before. He hadn’t made any moves. I mean, not that he was praising him for that. The first night Jazz had been so relieved he thought he might cry though. His life had come to be so that not being assaulted counted as a good day.

His injuries were healing nicely, and most of the bruising and discoloration was gone now. Val gave him fresh bandages every time he took a shower. He also monitored the pain medication he’d been prescribed really closely, wouldn’t let Jazz even see where it was kept, like he’d turn into some drug addict over some off-brand tylenol. They didn’t talk about Jazz’s injuries, or how they’d come to be. Val asked him how he was feeling every-so-often, but that was the extent of it.

The food was not as bad as he’d thought it would be. Val was a good cook, in that he could make normally gross things taste palatable. He made heathy versions of pretty much anything Jazz asked for. He also didn’t try to push any chores onto him, so if not for the fact that Jazz could not leave the apartment on his own, it almost seemed like he was the one wearing the pants.

Today though, stepping outside the apartment for the first time in almost two weeks, he was hit with the reality that that was not at all how things were.

“bond leave” was over and Val had to return to his tower investigation unit. Jazz was to begin his basic guide training course.

After being cooped up so long, he’d actually been kind of excited about it, which he saw now, had been utterly stupid.

He’d forgotten how much everyone at the tower sucked.

“Nice to see you Guide Jackson, I trust you have been well. This morning we’ll be working on basic calm projections. If at any point you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to ask.”

The guide from the train and hospital room stood in front of him, smiling at him innocently, as if he weren’t the one who’d completely fucked him over.

“Well it’s not fucking nice to see you, traitor!” Jazz marched over to him, reaching out and grabbing him by the collar “You put me in a room with that sentinel so he could rip my fucking throat out! You tricked me! This is all your fault.”

The other guide smirked down at him, unmoved.

“Is that what you thought? That you were tricked? I just assumed you would understand what was going to happen, seemed pretty obvious. And it would’ve been much less painful if you’d just done as you were told,” the guide gripped Jazz’s hand, removing it from his collar easily. “Also, you will refer to me as Guide Ben from now on, as I outrank you.”

Jazz scoffed at that, “Sorry, I don’t play your little tower games lapdog. I’ll call you whatever I want.”

“Really?” Ben smiled. “Because I heard that you’ve been the perfect little guide for Sentinel Val. Addressing him formally in public and speaking only with permission. Even I’m not that good.”

“Yeah, because you don’t get mauled when you fuck up!” Jazz protested, face heating up. He was just looking out for himself. That shit didn’t count if it was a lie.

Ben laughed at him a little longer before becoming serious again.

“Now that you’re marked and the bond is settled, it will take a lot more to turn your sentinel feral.” He continued, tone warning, before Jazz could get too excited about that bit of new information, “But sentinels rely on their guides to ground them, to provide support and reassurance, to care for their emotional needs, to take their stresses away. You aren’t doing any of these things, and because of this, Sentinel Val will be more volatile. Which brings us to the first thing you can do to alleviate that problem and our main lesson for today, calm projection.”

Jazz had never preformed a calm projection. Never felt the need to. That was a thing kept guides did; what would a calm projection ever do for him? Well, now he had to admit that his situation had changed. Maybe it would be a good idea to add the new trick to his arsenal, just in case he needed it to stave off a feral sentinel.

He nodded inwardly. Okay, he would give this lesson a chance. He’d learn from these tower guides, and then use their own book against them later.

To start, Ben asked him to try a calm projection on him with no instruction.

When Jazz focused his energy and projected _Be calm, Be calm, You are calm,_ at Ben with all of his force, the other guide burst out laughing.

He stood there indignantly as Ben cradled his stomach, not even trying to repress his amusement.

“What’s so funny.” Jazz glared over at him. How dare he laugh at him! He must’ve missed or something, but it was his first time, okay!

Ben straightened up, wiping his eyes, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just I’ve never seen a guide try to calm someone just by repeating ‘calm, calm, calm’ over and over again.”

Jazz tilted his head, confused, “How else would you do it? I mean what else could I say?”

Ben stared at him blankly for a few moments, a sobering expression coming over his face at the realization of how much work he had cut out for himself; it seemed the situation was no longer so amusing anymore.

“Yeah, we’re really going to have to start at the basics aren’t we.” He took a deep breath, “Okay, first of all, your understanding of your empathy is completely wrong. You can’t control people’s minds. What you’ve been doing, thought interjection, is completely useless against sentinels and guides in most cases, since we can identify it pretty easily. Especially if it is lazily done. Thought interjection is only effective if it flows well with what the target is already thinking; it has to be subtle and precise, and only really great guides can read people well enough to pull it off. Of course, thought interjection can work effectively against normal humans who have had no exposure to guides, but even then, it’s imperfect. Against guides and sentinels, well, you might as well just yell the same thing out loud.”

Oh. Well some things made more sense now. Now he knew why none of his projections had worked back at the hospital. The news that he couldn’t use thought interjection on guides or sentinels, well it was disappointing. It would definitely complicate his escape. But the knowledge that it worked well on normal humans, the majority of the population, was also comforting. He hadn’t lost his touch, he’d just been using the wrong technique for his target.

“So then what is the right technique for guides and sentinels?”

Ben sighed, “The idea is to project feelings, but that might be a little much at this point, so we’re going to start with images. Since our aim is to project calm, think of something calming; waves crashing on the beach, waterfalls, mountains, pick whatever. Focus on that image, reach into the target’s mind with your empathy, and project.”

Jazz nodded to himself, confident. Sounded simple enough. The guide acted like he was passing on some elaborate teaching or something. 

He cracked his knuckles, ready to give it a shot, “So what, I just reach out with my feelers, and then project a picture?”

“Your feelers?” Ben laughed at him again, which was really getting quite annoying. He shook his head, “You know what, I don’t want to know, just forget everything you’ve learned or not learned and don’t use that term ever again.”

This guy said useful things every now and so often, but he really liked taking shots at him didn’t he?

“What, so you can mold me into a little lapdog guide like you?” he fired back.

“You mean an experienced guide, trained to hone their natural instincts and talents, to wield them with precision and efficiency from a young age. No, too late for that. We just need to teach you the basics of calm projection so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Sorry if I’m not impressed by the honed precision of your little waves and rainbows.”

“There were no rainbows. Bright colors and colorful imagery can actually have stimulating effects.”

Jazz practiced basic calm projection, with intermittent banter, like that for the rest of the morning. Despite his personality, Ben was a decent teacher. Even if it was after verbally accosting him in some way, he’d always give an easy to understand explanation of each concept or step. And while, yeah, the constant mocking was annoying, it was also refreshing, he realized, being able to react normally, being able to be himself. Even if he was picked apart for it.

So when he saw Val standing in the doorway, he felt his heart fall a little. 

These classes were only in the mornings, afternoons would be spent in the apartment. It hadn’t been explicitly stated, but he wasn’t allowed to wander around the tower facilities on his own.

This morning some random guide had escorted him to these training facilities. He’d expected them to be the ones to retrieve him as well, but Val had other plans it seemed.

Ben held the door open as the sentinel entered, turning back to Jazz to give him an admonishing look.

Apparently his disappointment at Val’s appearance had leaked though. He made a mental note to try to get lessons for that too, and rose to meet the blindingly bright smiling face of his sentinel.

He could feel Val’s urge to hug him and quickly tried to say something to distract him from it.

“I thought you had work or something. Are you playing hookie?” he questioned, acting natural, taking a step back as the sentinel moved toward him. 

Val furrowed his brow, a hesitant, confused expression flashing over his features for a second before disappearing into another smile. Jazz saw Ben shake his head at him disapprovingly from over the sentinel’s shoulder.

“I decided to use my break to pick you up so we can walk back to the apartment together,” Val explained happily, “I’ll have to leave you alone for a few hours though. Is that okay? Will you get lonely without me?”

No, he would actually prefer to be without him forever. Ah, but he was noticing a new emotion coming off the sentinel, the beginnings of deprivation and neediness. The sentinel missed him. This was the first time they’d been separated since bonding, so he supposed that made sense, though it was a bit pathetic.

Jazz might be able to use this, he thought. He had been bored, with nothing to do. Val didn’t even have cable or a computer.

Ignoring Ben’s suspicious gaze, he replied carefully, “I don’t know…it will be my first time all on my own, with nothing to distract me from my loneliness.”

He could practically hear Val’s heart twist.

“I know! It’s hard for me too! If you need something, just let me know! I’ll get you anything you want!”

He didn’t hesitate, “An Xbox.”

“What?”

“I need an Xbox,” he repeated, then added, “I play video games to relieve stress.”

Surprisingly, none of these things were lies. He was bored. There was shit to do, the least they could offer him was this brief mental escape, right?

Val looked down at him, hesitantly, guiltily, “I’m not sure if video games are the best things for you now Jazz. I’ll think about it though, okay.”

Jazz didn’t understand. The guy had money. Jazz was an adult. What possible reason could there be to refuse him this? And clearly the sentinel didn’t enjoy telling him no, so really this made no sense. Maybe the sentinel just needed a push.

He purposely sulked, dropping his eyes to the floor. “What, I thought you said you’d get me whatever I wanted.”

“No, he will not get you whatever you want,” Ben cut in. “He is your sentinel and you will show him respect and be grateful for whatever he provides you.”

“Huh? Go away, this is between me and _my_ sentinel.” Jazz felt Val perk up at the reconfirmation of the bond. He decided to lean into it, tugging on the sentinel’s sleeve as he side-eyed the other guide, “Hey, this guy’s annoying me, get rid of him! Isn’t he like, threatening your authority by telling me what to do?”

Ben scoffed, “So you do know he has the authority here.”

Val lit up, watching the two bickering guides with an excited grin.

“Jazz! I didn’t know you made a friend! That’s wonderful!”

Val ignored his guide’s shout of “He’s not my friend!”, though he clearly had to have heard it, and turned to his subordinate.

“I see that you’ve taken great care of Jazz. I really appreciate it Ben. I know putting you in charge of him is asking a lot of you, but I couldn’t think of a better person for the job. I do hope that our team will be back to normal soon though!”

“No problem Sentinel Val. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a lot of work ahead of us, but I think we are progressing. If we keep going at this pace, he should be able to do a basic calm projection in a week or two.”

“That’s great! I’m sure I have nothing to worry about with you in charge! Of course, don’t hesitate to let me know if he causes you any trouble,” he looked down at Jazz as he said the last part.

Jazz felt a bit threatened by the sentinel’s smile for the first time, quickly turning away to look in the other direction. If he thought that Jazz intended to cause trouble, then he wasn’t wrong.

“He’s no trouble for me, Sentinel, I assure you.” The other guide flashed Jazz a devilish smile, “I will see you tomorrow Guide Jackson.”

Val interjected before he could react.

“You can just call him Jazz!”

* * *

Val dropped him off at the apartment and successfully hugged him and kissed his cheek as they parted. Jazz was alone at last, although without an Xbox.

He stretched out on the couch pretending to read some boring book for a few minutes before tossing it aside, brainstorming about what else to do to kill time.

To kill time until what, he scoffed out loud, until Val came back? And then he would play pet again. In the morning he’d go get mocked by that stupid guide. And then start all over again, rinse and repeat.

How long had it been since he’d come here. Weeks. And he still had made no progress on an escape.

He’d done nothing. He’d been doing everything they’d told him to so far. How was he any different from the run of the mill lapdog? Ben had even said it, that he was the perfect little guide.

And he hadn’t had anything good to say to counter that. All of this compliance was fucking with his head.

But he was afraid. He was powerless here, and he’d never been that before. He’d always had an out, in everything he did. A trump card. He’d never had to be smart or cunning to get what he wanted.

Jazz had imagined himself to be bold and daring; he’d seen himself as a rebel without a cause, roaming the city and doing whatever the fuck he pleased. But the world had shown him that that wasn’t him. At the first sight of danger he’d curled up like a dog.

He kept talking to himself about escape, repeating the idea like a mantra to prove to himself that he wasn’t giving up. But he had no fucking idea how he’d ever do it; it was plain escapism at this point. He was marked, bonded. He wasn’t invisible anymore. He wasn’t special anymore, besides the fact that he was apparently such a sucky guide that his sentinel might go against his protective nature and literally kill him one day.

He didn’t know who the fuck he was right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! Honestly, they mean the world :)  
> xoxoxo


	6. Ran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!  
> Ngl, I got bored of this story, and I also feel like I kinda lost my way with it. I promise I originally had an okay outline (ehhh, it was still pretty vague though), but then when I wrote it a bunch of things changed and nothing turned out like intended :(  
> But, I suddenly felt like writing again, so I jumped on the chance to continue! Anyway, thank you for reading!

That night, Jazz purposely went to bed before Val came home.

For one, he didn’t want to be trapped with his thoughts any longer, and for two, he didn’t know what he would do if he had to face Val right then. He didn’t want to have to play house with Val again. He didn’t want to be a scared little bitch. He didn’t want to hate himself. Jazz had never felt so trapped.

He woke up earlier than usual but didn’t move to get out of bed. He’d had a nice dream, and he wanted to keep chasing it with his imagination before it escaped him. And he didn’t want to get up, he’d decided. He’d stay here forever.

He refused to acknowledge the room around him. The subtle pull of covers, the shifting pressure of the mattress. The sound of footsteps on hardwood and the flourish of curtains opening. The smell of tea brewing and bacon simmering.

He would ignore it all until it went away. 

“Jazz,” a soft voice came down from above as he felt someone gently shake his shoulder. “Jazz, it’s time to get up. Your escort will be here soon. You need to eat and get dressed.”

The voice treaded lightly, politely and fairly making its case as to why Jazz should get out of bed.

But Jazz didn’t really care what words the voice was saying, he decided. He didn’t care how nice or reasonable it was anymore. He was done with morning coffee and awkward table conversation.

He was done.

He kept his eyes closed as he said it.

“No.”

The word reverberated throughout the room as it left his lips. Jazz flinched, clinging to his pillow in an instinctual fear. It had been a while since he’d said that.

He sensed the figure standing over him pause in hesitation and confusion. He hated that he was becoming more sensitive to the Sentinel’s emotions, picking up on things he used to have to reach out for.

“Jazz? I, uh, know you’ve been awake. I can hear your heartbeat. Are you…feeling unwell or something?”

Jazz rolled over to look up purposefully into the eyes of the Sentinel that was now perched on the side of the bed.

The morning sun beams from the window painted his hair with streaks of gold and refracted into concerned speckles of light in his eyes; he looked like some sort of heavenly being. Some would think he should be grateful to be visited by such a creature.

“You noticed?” he scoffed, aggressively lifting himself up to sit up against the headboard and leveling his gaze with the man across from him.

He felt the pricks of panic as they grew in number.

It had probably been a while since Val had heard this tone from him. And Jazz should maybe be afraid himself, but he was getting sick of flinching at every little thing like it was the end of the world.

“Jazz…” the Sentinel faltered, eyes growing wide when he saw the dark tint in the Guide’s gaze. Jazz could see him frantically searching for the right words to say. “Please. You can rest for today. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He turned his head downward, clutching the blanket. “Just…don’t….”

“Just don’t what?” Jazz grinned, feeling a wave of something come over him. “I haven’t done anything yet. Other than not do exactly what you tell me when you tell me to. But thank you, my Sentinel prince, for giving me permission to take a rain check on playing tower guide for the day. I think I’ll take you up on it.”

It felt good seeing the Sentinel squirm before him. Maybe he wouldn’t like the consequences later, but right now it was a nice release.

“Jazz…I’m so stupid. Sorry…I know things are hard for you. Please let me help.”

The sentinel was avoiding his eyes, fingers curled desperately now around the blanket. 

“Haha, I bet your itching to hit me right now, aren’t you? Is that what you’re imagining right now, my neck beneath your hands?” he let out a peel of unrelenting laughter.

He let the hilarity of it overtake him. That that’s what they’d been dancing around this whole time. That this guy wanted to beat the shit out of him and masturbate on him, and probably worse. Definitely worse.

He sounded like a supervillain to his own ears. 

He reached out, wanting to feel the moment when the camel’s back broke, when the tiger turned to strike.

And the moment came, but it didn’t feel like he’d imagined. There was no fire or thrill to it.

Val had lifted his head.

He’d let go of the blanket.

Jazz’s laughter died as an icy calm swept over the room, sending him involuntarily pressing up further against the headboard, where the sentinel’s eyes found him.

“I’m not going to hit you. I won’t be violent like that again.” Val was frighteningly composed, looking at him with newfound determination. “That was before we were bonded. And I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that I didn’t apologize sooner. I was afraid that if I thought about it too much I might lash out. But now I know that things are different. I can control myself now. So you don’t have to be afraid of me. You can talk to me.”

The sentinel was finally addressing it. Finally apologizing, without getting angry. He wasn’t pleading or begging, just speaking to him earnestly and openly.

And Jazz didn’t know why, but the sincerity in his voice only made him angrier.

What were they expecting from him after saying that?

“Well your new confidence is impressive, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not convinced,” Jazz clapped back derisively. “You have no idea who I am. I hate all of this. I don’t want to listen to anything you or the tower has to say. I don’t want to be here. Fuck you, so there! Your fingers still not itching to put me in my place?”

The sentinel took in a deep breath.

Somehow he still seemed to be in control.

“You’re right, I don’t know you as well as I want to. But I know some things. I know you were a rouge and a criminal with a record. I would have to be stupidly delusional to believe you would want to be here when you fought so hard not to be. And I know you don’t want to follow the tower rules or be polite. You’ve just been doing that out of fear, right? I guess I was letting myself get carried away too, pretending like things were perfect.”

“And doesn’t that drive just you crazy?” Jazz pushed back. Punching at water had suddenly become like punching at solid ice. “Knowing that I’m rejecting the bond. All the time. In my head, my heart, during my every waking hour?”

Jazz smirked, seeing the pain visibly flash over Val’s face at the same moment he felt it with his senses.

But that was all it was, a flash, which quickly faded, disappearing in an instant.

“It doesn’t matter if you reject the bond,” Val appeared oddly relaxed as he spoke. “Reject it all you like. Nothing you do will threaten it though. We’re already bonded and it can’t be undone. You’re mine forever.”

Val leaned in when Jazz tried to turn away, gripping his chin, not roughly, but firmly, firmly enough keep their gazes interlocked. To keep Jazz from escaping the strikingly lucid dark blue pools staring into him.

“I want you to be happy. I want you to obey me. I have the power to make you do a lot of things. A lot of power. I will be happy as long as we’re together. I want you to be happy too though.”

Jazz could hear his heart beating faster, the fear starting to catch up to him. It was a different kind of terror from the feral Sentinel he’d met before. He didn’t want to lose to it.

“That’s a cute sentiment; I’m all you need, huh? Well you know I’ve been planning to escape this joint right? The second I get the chance I’m blowing this popsicle stand. I’ll get out of the country and never see your stupid face again.”

“When’s the last time you heard of a rouge bonded guide Jazz? Never, right? That’s because they don’t exist. You know why? Because now that we’re bonded I can lock my senses onto you at anytime, anywhere. It would take me less than a second to locate you, no matter how far you go.”

“Oh, so it looks like I’ll have to kill you first.”

It was surprisingly easy to say. Jazz was crossing so many lines, why not this one too?

He felt a sudden well of sadness from the sentinel.

Val nonetheless replied in a steady voice, gaze unwavering.

“If you somehow managed to do that, then you’ll die too Jazz.” A more familiar light blue was returning to the sentinel’s eyes, “So please Jazz, don’t try that.”

A note of silence hung between them. Val loosened his grip on his chin, letting his hand caress his cheek before slowing pulling away.

It was awkwardly anticlimactic, and it now seemed like both of them were now lost on what to say next.

Jazz’s mind wasn’t built to process so much information and adrenaline simultaneously.

After some time, Val was the first one to speak again, breaking the silence after the storm.

“I’ll cancel your lesson with Ben today. I can also take the day off and stay home with you if you want. Or I can leave you here by yourself and have lunch delivered.”

Val began listing off lunch options and Jazz felt a tone of normalcy returning between them.

Some impulse within him responded to the shift, and he cut of Val mid-sentence with the thought that had come to his mind.

“Aren’t you worried?”

Val paused, looking at him questioningly, “Worried about what?”

Jazz tilted his head backwards. “I don’t know. Leaving me alone here? After everything I just said.”

Val’s eyes narrowed cautiously. “And didn’t you hear what I said? You can’t escape. And if you do, I promise I’ll find you.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that kind of escape bro. bonded for life, right?”

He felt the delicious moment when the sentinel connected the dots.

The reaction was everything he’d been bracing for. Pure fear, anxiety, desperation.

“Jazz, please, don't joke about that.” the Sentinel warned, fruitlessly trying to keep their emotions concealed.

Of course he continued.

“I mean I know you lock the knives away, but you don’t think I could find a way to do it? I’m sure--"

“Jazz stop!”

He didn’t wait for him to stop though. The sentinel was suddenly pinning him down on the mattress, one hand on Jazz’s throat, the other covering his mouth.

Jazz tried to bite the hand, but couldn’t find purchase for his teeth. The pressure applied from the other hand on his throat wasn’t completely choking him, just stopping him from getting enough air to speak.

Val still had some semblance of control, but a familiar feral glint was starting to creep into his eyes.

Jazz would laugh if he could at how easy it was. If he struggled a bit more he could send the sentinel over the edge no problem.

And then the weight on top of him disappeared. Jazz forgot to fight for a moment, eyes locking with the sentinel above him who had now lifted himself onto his knees. Only the hand that covered his mouth remained.

Before he could do anything, Val twisted off of him, landing gracefully on his feet and racing out of the room.

The next thing Jazz knew, a foreign guide was reaching into his mind, sending him into peaceful darkness.

* * *

Wow. He needed to stop waking up in hospital rooms.

The guides of course noticed the second he came to consciousness.

“Guide Jackson, it is good that you are awake. You were under for longer than expected, and you actually have a visitor waiting for you.”

One of the nurses? Guide-nurses? came rushing up to him practically the moment he opened his eyes.

He ignored them with a nod, taking time instead to focus on his surroundings. He was happy to find that he wasn’t tied to the hospital bed this time around.

He was just remembering what he’d done to land himself in this room this time around when a face appeared in his periphery that hit him with another wave of déjà vu.

A woman was approaching him, one he’d met before in a room just like this one.

And like most people he’d met here, she hadn’t left him with a good impression. Especially after the outcome of what she’d done.

“You,” he practically spat.

“Lena,” she reached out her hand, unbothered. “Master Matchmaker Guide. We had the pleasure of meeting a few weeks ago.”

“Ha, I remember. What are you tricking me into another forced bond? I thought those were once in a lifetime kind of deals?”

Guide Lena smiled sweetly, ignoring his malice completely.

“No, matchmaker guides also help counsel couples after the bonding process. It looks like your bond is in need of some work.”

“Gee, ya think?” he tried to look down at his neck. “Well I don’t think he left any bruises this time, so maybe there was improvement, no? Oh,” he added with an extra dab of sarcasm, “and don’t refer to me and him as a couple.”

The female guide paused to look at him for a moment. Jazz hated the feeling of being measured up, knowing she was probably all up in his head, analyzing every slight shift of his emotions.

“Jackson,” she started after a moment, “You know it’s not uncommon for newly bonded guides to try to challenge the bond. Testing boundaries is healthy, natural to a certain extent. You were curious to see how far you could go.”

She folded her hands in her lap, seeing if he would interject.

When he didn’t, she continued.

“I’m sure Val tried his best to reassure you. Reassure you of his control over the bond, over you. But your condition makes things more complicated.”

Jazz tried to wrap his head around what the guide was saying.

“I think you’re confused lady. I wasn’t looking to be ‘reassured’ or to test anything.”

He didn’t know what the fuck he’d been doing, but it hadn’t been that.

He wanted to reach out and punch the woman when her lips spread into another one of her pretentious smiles.

“Okay. But we need to start thinking about the future of your bond and how to ensure that you do feel safe and reassured by the bond.”

Jazz glared up at her. She was just like everyone else in the tower. Your words just bounced off them; they just ignored what you said or put words in your mouth, and then repeated whatever lies they were feeding until you were half brainwashed. Eventually you started to feel like it might be less annoying to just let them talk and get with the program.

“I have worked with many bond pairs, but I can’t pretend to know the difficulties with such a unique case as yours. That is why we have brought in a special guest who faced…similar issues…that might be able to help you better understand your position.”

Jazz hazily remembered hearing something about a guy with powers like him back at his first doctor’s appointment. But Dr. Franco had mentioned that they were a sentinel. Jazz didn’t see how a sentinel could be in the position to give him any sort of advice. He’d laugh at any one of them who tried.

“Is this by any chance Peace or Calm or whatever? Heard of him, not interested.”

Not that he was much interested anyway.

Guide Lena maintained a pressed smile. “I see you have heard of Sentinel Calm. He is quite well known around the tower. While he is not who we have arranged a meeting with, your guess is quite close. We’ve invited Sentinel Calm’s partner to speak with you today.”

“His guide?”

Jazz yawned. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk with this lady anymore.

“No. his partner. Sentinel Ran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sorry for suddenly making the tone of this chapter more intense. It kind of just happened. I think this kind of confrontation was inevitable. I def don't want it to stay like this though!! I'm dead. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I really enjoy seeing what people think, even though I don't know how to respond most of the time! You are appreciated :)


	7. Oren Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first of all, this chapter is part 1 of 2 of a kind of a, how do I say, spin-off/flashback chapter. To be honest, I myself am not the hugest fan of flashbacks, but I felt this would be better (and more fun to write) than just having it all be explained in a conversation or something.
> 
> It goes over the past of Ran and Calm, two characters whose existences have really just been alluded to until now. It also kind of fleshes out the tower structure and sentinel/guide society, because so far I’ve only really had to think about things from Jazz’s perspective. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a little different! You’ve been warned!

* * *

**Trainee Year 1 (Age 15)**

* * *

“Uh…Good morning?” The boy squinted as he slowly opened his eyes, trying to ease the inflow of sensory information.

“No.” Oren answered, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

“Oh,” the boy started to look around the nearly empty joint-training facility, sadness and disappointment coming over him, “So I zoned again.”

Oren nodded slowly. A part of him wanted to give the sentinel some comfort and reassurance, but he wasn’t sure if that would ultimately be helpful.

Thankfully before he could contemplate things too much, the guide instructor reappeared to take over.

“Good, good Oren, you managed to take Sentinel Ran out of the zone all by yourself. That’s what, your third time? And at just fifteen, wow!” the instructor patted his back lightly, then turned to the young Sentinel, “Today wasn’t quite your lucky day Sentinel Ran, but don’t let it get you down.”

Oren felt the guide press a bit of encouragement onto the boy.

“Sorry that you had to stay late because of me,” the boy smiled up at them apologetically.

“Oh no, this is an important part of training, for sentinels and for guides,” the instructor waved the apology away, “It is time for you two to go back to your respective facilities though, I believe.”

Oren felt relieved to receive permission to leave and didn’t risk letting the opportunity pass. “Thank you for your instruction,” he bowed to the guide. His eyes flickered cautiously over to the sentinel, “Take care.”

The young sentinel nodded, smiling, and all Oren could do was quickly nod back before making his escape.

He wasn’t equipped to deal with situations like these yet. They were too delicate, and Oren was still in training. How was he supposed to be kind without giving false hope? He pondered the instructor’s encouraging words to the sentinel, and whether they were really responsible. Maybe it wasn’t just him. Maybe no one knew how to deal with cases like that.

Cases like that just couldn’t be helped.

Some sentinels had less control of their senses than others, causing them to zone more often, becoming more reliant on guide support. There was no problem with this, since a guide didn’t need to be bonded to a sentinel to help them come out of a zone- at first that was. That changed over time. Until a sentinel bonded, each zone would get deeper and deeper and leave growing mental strain and exhaustion in its wake. If it continued like that, a day would come when they wouldn’t come back. The last zone.

Oren felt sadness and anger swirl together inside his chest.

It wouldn’t be a problem if guides and sentinels were equally numbered. But there just weren’t enough guides for every sentinel to be bonded, even if guides all registered like they were supposed to. There was no way for everyone to be happy; Oren understood that.

If there were no rules, it would be utter blood and chaos. Then guides really would be hunted for sport like the rogues liked to believe.

So the tower had created a point and rank system. Essentially, the stronger a sentinel was, the earlier they could apply for a bond. The age limit was twenty, with the average age falling in the early and mid-thirties. Most Sentinels would start to experience severe health consequences in the late thirties if they remained unbonded; surviving past that into the mid-forties was quite rare. 

There was reasoning behind this at-a-glance brutal system. Sentinels powerful enough to work in the field would need the support of a guide moreso than a weaker sentinel, as they would use their gifts at a higher caliber and frequency. It also served as a motivation for sentinels to hone their powers to the extent of their abilities.

Even a weak sentinel though, if they dedicated themselves to the tower and found a way to utilize other skills, could probably bond by their mid-thirties. Suicide caused by the detrimental mental health effects of remaining unbonded was not uncommon before that age, but death from zones were.

That boy though, Oren shook his head sadly.

He’d drawn the worst two straws. Weak and volatile.

He wouldn’t make it much past twenty.

Oren thought back to the sentinel’s smile; weak and performative. Maybe he was starting to realize his fate like everyone else.

All they could do was pray for a soul bond.

* * *

“Oh, are you just getting back?” the other guide asked when they crossed paths in the hallway.

“Yeah, I was able to get them out of the zone by myself again.”

The two guides shared a solemn look.

Ben was Oren’s neighbor and childhood friend. Both of them were the children of sentinel and guide pairs, so they’d grown up inside the tower. Unlike other guides and sentinels their trainee unit, they lived in tower apartments with their families rather than the dorms. Unlike other guides and sentinels in their unit, they knew a bit more about the world of the tower.

“Maybe he could find a soul bond? There’s no rules for those. Or at least get strong enough to be on a rouge hunting team?” the other guide attempted to change the mood.

Guides were all empaths, and therefore heavily affected by negative emotions.

“I think a soul bond’s his best bet,” Oren laughed. Not just any sentinel could become a rouge hunter. “While we pray on that, let’s hope I find my soul bond too.”

“God,” Ben shook his head, “Everyone says that, but what if they end up being some fat old man?” 

“Eh, but they’re the one sentinel that’s specifically made for you? I mean, I hear the matchmaker’s good, but the other half of your soul?”

“Okay, okay,” Ben held his hands up in defeat. “I’ll put in on my prayer list.”

* * *

**Trainee Year 3 (Age 17)**

* * *

“You got balls, a weakling like you daring to talk to the prettiest guide in our unit!”

Ran winced, curling into himself as another kick landed into his side.

“I wasn’t, I just”-

He cut himself off in a scream as one of his fellow trainees launched another unrelenting kick, this time on his back.

It probably wouldn’t matter if he explained himself anyway. The guide had just been returning the handkerchief that Ran had lent them the other day.

He knew that wasn’t the reason these sentinels were bullying him.

Well really, there were too many reasons to count for why he would be the target of bullying. He fit almost all of the prerequisites.

But he knew that having a crush on one of the most popular guides in their unit wasn’t helping.

He couldn’t help it though. During the first few months of training, when Ran had been scared and lonely, newly separated from his family and dealing with strange new sentinel senses, Oren had been the one to help him. Maybe not by choice—the guide had been the only trainee in their unit at the time who could pull a sentinel out of a zone, but that didn’t really matter to Ran.

Coming out of a zone was terrible even before he knew what it meant. It was a physical representation of his failure.

But at the same time, getting to look up at the guide’s face as the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes never failed to make him feel a bit better.

Now that trainees in their unit were separated by rank, Ran didn’t get to see the other much. A different guide would be waiting there when he opened his eyes.

Ran wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no point in a sentinel like him courting a guide like that. Or even any guide at all.

He couldn’t help it though. Especially now.

Oren had changed in the past year. He was always looking tired and sickly. He was good at hiding it, especially given that he lived among guides and sentinels, but Ran noticed. He wondered if it was his sentinel side that made him long to reach out and help them, to take them in and protect them forever.

Even though he knew well and good he could never do anything like that.

The only things he could do were small and meaningless. 

The other day when the guide had caught a cold, he’d discreetly lent them a handkerchief, and that small action, somehow had landed him in his current situation.

One of the sentinels standing over him whiffed the air, eyes circling in on the piece of cloth clutched in his hands.

“What’s that you have, pervert!”

“No! Stop!” Ran cried out helplessly as the handkerchief was ripped away from him.

The sentinel who’d grabbed it brought the piece of cloth to his nose, face contorting into a mocking smile as he did so.

“Gross. I wonder if all the guides would stop doting on you out of pity if they knew you were getting off on their scents, panty-sniffer.”

The circle of sentinels burst into laughter as if it had been the funniest joke in the world. Ran thought to counter that pulling him out of zones couldn’t really be counted as doting, but gave up, thinking it would be better to just wait until the trio got bored and left.

“Hey, let him live a little,” another one of them joined in with a kick to Ran’s knee, “It’s the closest he’ll ever get to touching a guide for real, with how weak his is!”

Ran winced in pain as he heard another wave of laughter ring out above him.

“Weak. Aren’t you guys all the same rank? That’s what those uniforms mean right?”

Ran felt the group of sentinels jump up in surprise at the new voice.

“S-Sentinel Calm? Oh we were just…” One of them started nervously.

It was embarrassing as sentinels that none of them had noticed the other’s approach. It was quite a feat. The other sentinel would have had to avoid all lines of sight and dampened the sound of their body movement to a degree of perfection.

Of course, it was hardly surprising that they’d pulled it off, given who this was, if Ran had heard the name correctly.

“And I don’t think bullying someone three to one is something a ‘strong’ person would do.”

Ran felt the sentinel’s eyes motion towards him from where he lay face down in the dirt.

“No, we weren’t,” one of them denied, in a quaking voice completely different from the mocking tone they’d been using moments before, “it was just a little fight.”

“Oh?”

“Y-yeah, sorry Ran,” they attempted a hurried apology before turning to their friends, “Come on guys, let’s get back to the dorms.”

The sentinel seemed to wait for the school of bullies to disperse before approaching.

Ran watched the shadow that fell over him as they crouched down on the ground beside him.

“Here, let me help you up,” the sentinel reached out to him, gently urging Ran up from his crumpled form.

Ran just glared at the outstretched hand.

“No thanks, I’m fine.” He hoisted himself up onto his elbows. “That was quite a show though, you’re really good at playing the white knight.”

He was sure the sentinel had been expecting something different from him, something more along the lines of praise and gratitude. But Ran thought that this guy probably already got enough of that from everyone else.

The sentinel seemed amused by his reaction.

“Is chivalry a crime now?” he laughed, “Do they not teach you to stand up to bullies in the tower schools?”

Ran gritted his teeth, seeing the outstretched hand still lingering in the air from the corner of his eye.

He’d only heard about him in rumors, but he could already tell that the hated this guy.

“I’m from the outside too. Most of us are actually. You’re not that special, you just came late,” Ran pointed out caustically.

The sentinel just grinned wider.

“Oh, so I guess that means you already know me. But I don’t think I know you. What’s your name…Ran, was that what they called you?”

Ran felt a wave of anger and embarrassment at the casual way the sentinel indirectly pointed out the gap between them. At the same age, the sentinel trainee beside him was the tower’s new darling while Ran was a forgettable low ranker.

A low ranker covered in dirt and mud, sprawled out on the ground after getting his ass publicly handed to him.

He wished the other could just leave so that he could salvage his dignity in peace.

Ran moved to try to get up on his own, only to fall to the horrifying realization that his body was in worse condition than he’d thought.

He gave the outstretched hand a surreptitious glance, quickly turning away when he was caught in the act.

He could practically feel the sentinel smiling beside him.

“Really? Don’t play so hard to get. Come on little Ran, let’s get you to the nurse.”

“W-what hey!” Ran yelled in indignation when two arms wrapped around underneath his armpits and pulled him to his feet.

This was pathetic. He was a sentinel; he shouldn’t be so weak. He should be able to get up on his own. He shouldn’t let himself get beat up in the first place.

“I can walk by myself!” he protested, unsuccessfully attempting to shirk off a supportive arm around his shoulder.

Calm ignored him, casting an inspective glace down his body. “Did you get pushed down? Maybe you tore something in the fall.”

“What do you have special x-ray vision too?”

Apparently Ran was talking to himself, because the next moment Calm was trying to lift him up.

“I really think I should carry you.”

Ran was about to retort when he saw his handkerchief crumpled up on the ground. He didn’t want to just leave it there, seeing as Oren had gone to the trouble of returning it.

“Wait!” he pushed Calm’s arms away. “I need to grab something.”

Calm followed Ran’s line of sight to the crumpled piece of cloth.

“I’ll get it.” He quickly stated, stepping over to pick it up.

“Wait! No!” Ran tried to stop him.

Maybe this sentinel would actually listen to his explanation as to why he had a handkerchief drenched in guide scent and pheromones. But no, he definitely seemed like the type who liked to tease.

Of course, Calm ignored him and picked up the handkerchief anyway. Ran couldn’t bear to watch as the sentinel brought it to his nose, already picturing the mocking smile he would wear.

“Where’d you get this?”

Ran looked up, a bit surprised by the lack of humor in the sentinel’s tone. Could it be that he was genuinely disgusted?

“I-It’s mine.” He stammered, “I lent it out, and just got it back.”

Calm stared at him for a moment.

“Well,” he cracked into a smile, “Not anymore. Now it’s mine. Thanks for lending it to me, maybe you’ll get it back someday if you’re nice.”

Ran’s eyes widened, stupefied for a second as the sentinel daintily tucked the handkerchief into his pocket.

“H-hey, wait! You can’t just”-

“Come on,” Calm cut him off “Let’s get you to the nurse.”

* * *

The sentinel had finally come to visit him at the apartment. Normally they got straight down to business, so Oren found himself faltering at the out of the blue question.

“If you really need me so badly, what are you doing giving your scent out to any kid that asks?”

Oren tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

The sentinel rolled his eyes, taking something out of his pocket and holding it out to him.

Oren’s eyes widened as he recognized the piece of cloth.

“That’s- someone just lent it to me when I had a cold, and I was just giving it back!”

“Oh?”

The sentinel’s eyes clouded over, reflecting a dense, dark emotion.

Oren shivered. This was new. He’d never seen them wear an expression like this before.

And he hated it, because even though he couldn’t feel anything, just the sight of the emotion made him want to kneel, made him want to bare his neck for his sentinel and beg for forgiveness.

No, what was worse was the jilt of excitement he felt at the idea of his sentinel getting angry over him.

“I-I please. It was from a low-ranked and volatile sentinel. He probably won’t live to bond, so us guides try to be nice to him. I think he-uh likes taking care of me? And I thought it was harmless, but I’ll stop! I promise!” Oren was shaking now as he practically whined, dropping to his knees “Please!”

He was so desperate and starved for the touch, the attention of his sentinel that he would do anything. During the day he struggled to keep his surface persona together, and at night when he could finally let his walls down, he fought get proper sleep. It was a constant itch in his head that only worsened as time went by with the absence of his sentinel’s touch.

Until Oren was reduced to this.

A disgusting mess on the floor, happy to get any form of reaction from the sentinel standing before him.

When Oren looked up again, the aggressive glint in the sentinel’s eyes had dulled and he was regarding him with a contemplative expression. Oren wanted so much to read the boy’s mind, to get some hint, some something of what feelings were locked inside.

And then a hand reached out to palm over the top of his head, and Oren shuddered, almost forgetting to breathe, as a wave of warmth and gratification rushed through his body at the touch. The heavy weight that had built up inside him started to melt away, and his entire being screamed out for more.

“It’s fine as long as I cum right?”

Oren nodded desperately, watching in anticipation as the sentinel started to unfasten his trousers.

He hated how much he needed it, even as the Sentinel’s casual disregard for his pleasure cut at him in the one still-sane corner of his mind.

Oren reached out to help, to touch, but the Sentinel slapped his hands away.

“Don’t," he chided, "I’ll do everything myself.”

Oren yelped when the sentinel pulled him back by the nape of his neck.

“Don’t make noise. Open your mouth.”

In the next moment a cock was roughly shoved down his throat.

Oren’s entire body rang out in pleasure and relief as his sentinel dispassionately thrust into him.

Yes, yes, he could finally be useful. His sentinel was finally accepting him.

Is what his guide instincts told him as he gagged and choked, tears and spit trailing down his face as he looked up desperately for approval.

The sentinel had his head tipped back towards the ceiling; his eyes were closed. He held a handkerchief held up his nose.

Later, after the release of pheromones that came with the sentinel’s orgasm had brought him back to a normal state, Oren would hate himself for this. Hate himself for crawling back again and hate himself for knowing he’d do it again.

This was not what the tower had promised.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Soul bonds weren’t supposed to treat you like this, like you were some unwanted burden, something you needed to hide away.

Oren wanted to laugh at his former self, the one that had existed before the abnormal sentinel had walked into his life. The sentinel that had their first zone at seventeen. The sentinel whose emotions couldn’t be read. The sentinel that didn’t react to guide pheromones.

He was a miracle of aberrations. He would be valuable to the tower no doubt.

Any guide would be lucky to have someone as powerful as him as their sentinel.

Oren could almost laugh. Poor fools.

No, he supposed he was the poor fool here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!


	8. Oren Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most self-indulgent chapter I’ve ever written lol. Did it make sense to throw in a hunterxhunter exam esque emotional drama in the middle of this sentinel-guide fic? Maybe not, but I won’t take it back.

* * *

Trainee Year 5 (Age 19)

* * *

“Ugh, this sucks! A week in the wilderness with no guide support?” one sentinel groaned as they were marched onto the buses.

“That’s not uncommon at all in the field sentinel,” the complaining sentinel jumped as one of the instructors popped up behind him to respond to his complaint. “You’ll need to be prepared for these situations if you hope to be eligible for high-ranking missions. Your grade on this test will also be factored into your overall rank score, so I would recommend not treating it like a camping trip.”

Ran observed the scene with disinterest as he made his way forward to take an empty seat near the back.

The wilderness test was one of the last parts of sentinel training. It was more like a thing old buddies reminisced about than an important test. To be honest, it did sound a bit like a game. Each trainee was given a number plate fastened onto a visible location on their vest and sent out to a set of coordinates the woods. When the test started, the number of their target would be sent to them, appearing on the back of their own plate. The objective was to steal the number plate of your target while keeping your own number plate safe. It supposedly was a good measure of tracking abilities and stealth, as well as wilderness survival.

Most high-ranking sentinel trainees already had one foot in the field, serving in assistant positions in police, military, and reconnaissance branches of the tower. Having to complete a test like this must be a joke to them. Tests like this only mattered to low ranking sentinels like him who were desperate for points.

Even if the more seasoned trainees looked unenthusiastic now, he doubted they would just let those like Ran win though. Sentinels were all competitive at heart.

Ran glanced over to his fellow low-ranking sentinels a few seats away. They’d never really stopped bullying him completely, but it had gotten better over the years. It became clear as graduation neared that, in the end, they shared more similarities than differences. Sitting here on this bus, they were all looked on with the same disregard from their fellow unit members. If anyone looked at them at all.

None of them were threats, so they were as good as invisible.

To most at least.

“Ran!” A familiar voice yelled out at him from the aisle. It’d been a while since he’d heard it. The other was already off on missions half the time.

A brightly smiling young man stood before him.

“It’s nice to have a chance to train together, don’t you think?”

Calm casually slid down next to him, causing Ran to let out a sigh as he realized that he’d be trapped against the window for the remainder of the journey.

Worse, he could already feel a wave of eyes gluing on to him at the other Sentinel’s familiarity. Drawing attention and becoming a target was the last thing he needed right now. 

I mean, he got that the sentinel loved to tease him, but couldn’t he read the situation?

“Whatever. I’m going to sleep,” He dodged the question, pulling out a pair of sentinel grade noise cancelling headphones to emphasize the point.

Only to have them swiped from his grasp.

“You won’t be able to use these during training,” Calm tutted, tucking them away in his pocket.

“Yeah, and we haven’t even gotten to the location yet, so I’m good,” Ran countered.

He’d honestly been planning on sleeping anyway, but now it was also part of an escape effort.

He made a move to retake his belongings, but Calm grabbed his arm, and when he tried to shake himself free the sentinel’s grip only tightened.

Ran turned his head up to complain when the sentinel met him with an uncharacteristically serious gaze.

“Do you want to work together on the test?”

Ran blinked. “What?”

“You know, like be partners.”

“It’s an individually scored test Calm.”

Did he not know that much? Top ranked sentinels really didn’t take this seriously, did they.

“Hmm…” Calm brought a hand to his chin in contemplation. Then Ran saw his eyes flash with amusement, “Okay. Let’s both do our best then, little Ran.”

Suddenly his arm was free again. Calm sat back facing forward in his seat and Ran was left a bit bewildered.

He didn’t know how to reply to that. Of course he’d try his best; unlike Calm, his life might be hanging on this test. This wasn’t a game to him.

He thought about maybe saying something snarky before remembering his objective.

“Hey, are you gonna give me back my headphones?”

Calm nodded in confirmation and then held out his arms, “Give me your jacket.”

“What? No.” How did that make any sense.

“I want to sleep too, so I can do my best,” Calm explained, frowning, “But I’m too cold. I’ll trade your headphones for your jacket.”

Something about that sentence didn’t sound right. Namely that both of those things were his in the first place. But Ran honestly was tired, and he was sure Calm would be perfectly happy to keep arguing the entire bus ride, so he reluctantly gave in, silently taking off his jacket and handing it over to the other sentinel.

* * *

“That would’ve just been too lucky. They should honestly reduce the points of whoever got you as their target,” the leader of the trio spat as he swung Ran’s supply bag over his shoulder.

The other sentinel laughed in agreement, “Yeah, he’ll probably zone out before they even make a move!”

“Why did he even bother showing up. I’d wanna spend my last years doing something more worthwhile,” the third one joined in.

They might’ve thrown a few more insults at him before leaving, Ran didn’t know.

He leaned back on the tree behind him, staring out blankly ahead at the remains of his supplies strewn about on the forest floor.

The words of the other sentinel echoed in his head.

Why had he bothered showing up? Why had he bothered with any of this?

How many times had he seen his family this year? Instead of pretending there was hope and wasting his time training, he could’ve been at home with the only people who actually cared about him.

But he’d been chasing dreams of guides he’d never have.

He’d been so scared of worrying his mom and little sisters with the reality of his condition, so embarrassed of them knowing how weak and pathetic he was, that he’d visited them less and less over the years. 

He looked up at the sky, eyes glassy with tears.

Oh. He’d been crying. When had that happened.

Ah, it was overcast now. The sun had been out earlier.

He smelled the air.

Yes, it was going to rain soon. He could hear the animals of the forest scurrying around to prepare for the shower.

Oh, someone was approaching.

Huh. Maybe he should hide.

No, Ran thought. He didn’t think he would. There was no point. He was tired of this. He just wanted to go home.

He could hear footsteps now.

They weren’t even trying to conceal themselves. He guessed they didn’t need to really.

The footsteps grew louder. The assailant picked up their pace.

Ha. What a fool. Don’t waste your energy.

They’d be here soon. Ah, they were sprinting now.

He didn’t bother lifting his head when the footsteps stopped.

“Ran?”

A hand shook his shoulder.

“Ran? What are you doing? I mean, I knew I’d catch you eventually, but I thought you’d at least give me a chase. I thought we were both going to try our best?”

The hand moved up to cup his cheek.

“Ah, little Ran. What happened to you?”

He sat there as they ran their hands over his body, staring forward despondently.

Why wouldn’t they just take his number plate and get it over with. What were they searching for?

He eyed his jacket tied around their waist. So they’d used his scent to track him down.

Had they known beforehand that they’d get Ran as their target? No, it was probably just luck. That’s just how this guy’s life was. He was born lucky.

The two of them couldn’t be more different.

“Hm…it’s going to rain soon. My shelter is about two hours away from here. That won’t be fun, but at least we won’t have to worry as much about being detected. It’s still probably best if I carry you though. I have more experience with anti-tracking tactics.”

Ran listened blankly to the sentinel as he talked to himself, not really understanding.

He let himself be pulled up from the ground, ready to just fall back down again, but was scooped up by strong arms before he could.

Then his world turned upside-down as his body was slung over a broad shoulder.

“Sorry Ran, I know it’s uncomfortable, but just bear with it for a while, yeah? We’ll get there soon.”

Ran didn’t remember how long they walked for. He felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. Rain trickled down every now and then, but he didn’t get wet. He’d been daintily wrapped up in a tarp-like thing. The sentinel intermittently talked to him, or to himself maybe. Ran never responded, but they didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually they’d come to a cave, where he was set down upon a soft sleeping bag.

The sentinel whispered something to him, gently stoking his forehead before disappearing through the entrance into a dusk-fallen forest.

* * *

“Good Morning,” a voice greeted him as he opened his eyes.

“Calm?”

“Oh,” the sentinel flashed a smile, “so he speaks now.”

Ran sleepily looked down at his vest. His number plate was still attached.

“I don’t get it,” he stared at the plate, “why didn’t you take it?”

“Hmm?” the sentinel hummed, nodding in realization when he saw what it was he was referring too. “Oh, That? Why would I. I already got my target last night when I went out for supplies. See?”

Calm opened his vest to show him a number plate tucked inside.

Ran didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense.

“But then…. why? Why did you come looking for me?”

Calm tilted his head, “Why, well so we can be partners of course. Maybe you’ve figured it out already little Ran, but even though everyone is scored individually, teaming up to help one another is one of the main strategies of this test.”

Oh. Of course. That’s why Calm had smiled at him like that back on the bus. How stupid could he be. Thinking back, it was the most basic thing in the world. Maybe if he was smarter he could’ve used that to overcome his weaknesses. But no, he was a low ranker all around.

He didn’t know whether the other sentinel was teasing him or trying to do a good deed during a test that held no consequences for himself. Either way, he was sad to say that it didn’t matter anymore.

He looked up with a solemn smile.

“Sorry Calm. I already gave up.”

The sentinel stilled.

Something in their expression changed as they glanced down at Ran questioningly.

“Hm? What do you mean Ran. What do you mean you ‘gave up’.”

Ran felt his fists clench at the question.

They had no right. They were the last person who could judge him. They were the last person allowed to be disappointed. As if they could understand. How dare they look at him like that.

“Ran,” the sentinel tried again, reaching out for him, but Ran slapped his hand away.

“I give up okay!” Ran screamed, turning in on him in sudden rush of fury, “I’m done with this. I’m done playing tower games! I just want to die in peace, okay? I don’t want to keep trying and hoping and failing over and over again just to end up in the same spot!”

He felt his lungs heaving, angry tears brimming his eyes.

“It’s over! I give up! On this stupid test, on this stupid training, on everything!”

He was losing control, emotions flying wild. It was probably dangerous for him to be like this, but Ran felt himself not caring.

“Ran…” the other sentinel whispered, again reaching out to take Ran into his arms.

This time he didn’t let him go, pulling him into his chest. Ran struggled to free himself, pounding his fists against the larger sentinel’s shoulders, but the arms around him only tightened.

“Let me go! I told you I give up!”

Ran screamed. He was crying freely now, whether from anger, frustration, or sadness he didn’t know. He let his snot and tears smear the fabric of his captor’s clothing. They didn’t seem to mind, unmoved by Ran’s attempts to pull away, calmly patting his back, rocking him back and forth as if he were a small child.

"I give up," He cried.

“Oh little Ran,” Calm shushed him, lips brushing up against his neck. “Do you really think,” his voice dropped into a low whisper, “I would let you do that?”

Ran felt his breath hitch.

He lifted his head.

“W-what does that even mean.”

“It means, Ran,” Calm pulled away from him so that he could see his face, “that I’m going to save you.”

Save him?

Ran stared at the sentinel, face streaked with dried tears.

How could he look him in the eyes and say something that?

Did he not know? There was no saving him. Did he think he was the first one? The first one to pity him. The first one to tell him it would be all right? Where had following those false promises brought him.

His mind went back to the first day they’d met, to that self-sure grin, and Ran thought he understood.

“Oh, is that what this is,” he started to detangle himself from Calm’s arms, and the sentinel reluctantly let him go. “You want to play white night?”

Calm’s smile seemed to fall, whether at the loss of his touch or his words, it was unclear.

“I’m not sure you could call it that,” he answered, watching Ran take a place across from him on the floor. 

“What,” Ran laughed dryly, “is that title not good enough for you? You think just because you’re top ranked and have some freak ability that you’re above everything? Above the Tower?”

“No Ran,” Calm shook his head, “because if I save you, there won’t be anything chivalrous about it.” He stared off into the distance for a moment, as if looking at something only he could see, “I was going to wait a bit longer, but now you’ve worried me little Ran.”

He looked back at Ran and smiled.

“Y-you’re” Ran tried not to stutter, “You’re always talking over my head. Why are you doing this? Are you making fun of me?”

Of course, this was all just a game to him. Did he realize how cruel this was?

“Hmm…Wow Ran, you really caught me off guard, you know? I’m totally unprepared. How do I explain this…” the sentinel seemed to ponder their next words. “Okay,” he began, “So, I’m applicable to bond once I’m twenty. And I’ve decided that I’ll let you bond with my guide.”

He continued before Ran could begin to react, “Great plan right? That’s all you need, a guide, right?”

The feeling that erupted in Ran’s chest was hard to describe. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip his hair out or laugh.

“You,” he couldn’t even meet the sentinel’s eyes, unsure what kind of face he’d end up making, “You can’t be that stupid, right?”

He looked up to see a flash of confusion on the sentinel’s face.

He pressed forward, “I think you’re smart enough to know why that wouldn’t work. Or are you trying to trick me and some unfortunate fellow into a double suicide. You know what happens to Sentinels who take guides out of line.”

Calm seemed to accept the criticism, taking a moment to think before nodding assuredly to himself.

“Poor explanation on my part. I’ll let you bond with them first. Then I’ll bond with them as planned.”

Ran scoffed, amazed again by the depths of this sentinel’s arrogance and ignorance. The worlds they lived in really were completely different.

“That’s also impossible. Sentinels can’t bond with an already bonded Guide.”

“Oh,” Calm asked, “and why is that?”

Ran felt a prick of annoyance at the question, “What is this, a fucking science pop quiz! A guide’s pheromones change when they’re bonded, signaling them as claimed and making sentinels unable to produce the pheromones needed to mark a bond. There. Did I pass?” He felt his breath growing ragged again.

Calm tilted his head in an almost innocent gesture.

“But guide pheromones don’t affect me?”

“So you think you’ll be completely immune? That you’re somehow the exception to hundreds of years of research?”

“I might be.”

“You might be,” Ran repeated.

A brief silence fell between the two of them.

Calm looked at Ran, face devoid of his usual teasing arrogance, eyes filled with some unreadable emotion.

“But little Ran,” he started, “if you do nothing, you’ll die. ‘Might’ or ‘maybe’ is better than certain death, right?” He reached out to touch Ran’s hand, coaxing him again with his gentle touches.

Ran felt himself shaking. He couldn’t lie to himself. It sounded good. And it was true. He had nothing to lose. He would die without having been bonded or die with having been bonded. And then there was the slim, slim chance that he could live. If what Calm was telling him was true. If this wasn’t just another trick. Then…

But no, something so great wasn’t possible.

“Ha,” he let out a hollow laugh, “and you think I’m so cruel that I would bet an innocent guide’s life on that? I’m not going to finally bond just to have my partner executed with me.”

“Ah,” Calm jolted a bit, as if he’d remembered something, “That’s the thing! You see, the guide is actually in a similar situation to you. I think bonding to you is their only chance of survival.”

Ran was taken aback for a second.

“W-what do you mean? ‘The guide’, do you already have one picked out?”

“Picked out…” Calm mused, “I didn’t exactly pick them Ran. I guess you could say they were picked by fate?”

Ran couldn’t believe it. There was no way. Maybe Calm really was just fucking with him right now. How could that possibly be true.

“A soul bond!” Ran lunged forward grabbing onto Calm’s shoulders. “You…you’re lying. That doesn’t make sense! If that was true? Then why aren’t you bonded yet? You wouldn’t…You couldn’t do that! It’s no, that would be impossible!”

Calm smiled.

“They used to ask questions like that all the time too. Why Ran?” his eyes suddenly narrowed, “Because I don’t want a Guide. Don’t need them, don’t like them. The idea of having one attached to me for life is suffocating.”

The sentinel spoke as if he was discussing the most revolting topic in the world. Ran had never seen a sentinel speak about guides in such a way. Just the look on Calm’s face sent a shiver down his spine.

And it dawned on him what this new information meant if it were true.

His arms fell limp to his sides.

Ran didn’t think he could believe it. Yes, Calm could be a jerk. He liked to manhandle him and sometimes his teasing could go too far. But he couldn’t believe he was capable of something as cruel as that.

“That’s…” he hesitated, “But guides who bond with another sentinel after meeting their soul bond almost always die. And you were planning on just rejecting them forever? How could you even hide it? The tower would never allow you to do something like that!”

Calm sighed, running a hand over Ran’s head.

“The tower lets people die all the time. Just look at yourself. They justify it with order and fairness, but it’s really all about maximizing their own power and control. I’m sure the tower would be sad about losing a promising guide, but when it comes down to it, a once-in-a-lifetime Sentinel like me is more valuable. My soul bond never came forward, but if they did, I was pretty confident I’d be able to deny their claim and the tower wouldn’t fight me too hard on it.”

Ran shook his head, “You couldn’t actually do that. There’s no way. Letting a guide die, letting your guide die…”

“Don’t worry,” Calm reassured him “They’ll be yours too if you do what I tell you. And then you can save them to your heart’s content.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Ran kept shaking his head, disbelieving.

“It makes a lot of sense if you’d just listen to what I’m saying. I’m pretty smart. I actually make plans on how to get what I want instead of moping around and waiting to die.”

“But what do you want?” Ran stared up at him, “What would you get out of this.”

Calm stared back at him, suddenly grinning, like Ran had just asked the silliest question in the world.

“I like you Ran.”

Ran furrowed his brow.

“Why would you? Enough to risk something like that.”

“I like the way you smell.”

“That’s just weird.”

“I like being around you.”

“I don’t like being around you.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“There has to be more than that. If you do this, you might die too.”

“Ran.”

The sentinel called his name, like they had done so many times before. But this time it rang differently. There was a tone of finality to it. As if they knew that something was going to come to an end with their next words.

“I want you to be mine. I want you to submit to me like a guide submits for their sentinel.”

The two sentinels shared a long glance.

And Ran knew then that Calm had not lied to him. He was no white knight. He would not save him out of love or kindness alone. These were his conditions.

Ran swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Calm spoke before he could attempt to.

“I can’t force you Ran. You have to choose.”

Ran took a deep breath to center himself. So many choices had suddenly appeared from where there had been none before. With just with a few words from the one infront of him. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore. It should be so simple.

“If you’re not lying to me, then that means I would really have a chance to live. To have a guide.”

“Yes.”

“And that would be the best option. Everyone would be happy. Your soul bond gets to live and be bonded to their fated mate. I get to live and have a guide. You get what you want.”

“Yes.”

Ran shook his head, “But that’s not true is it? It’s only the best option because you made it the best option. If you just accepted your soul bond then there would be no need for any of this.”

“Maybe,” Calm acknowledged, “But that’s not how things worked out.”

“Would you really refuse your soul bond forever? Even after I died?” There was no way. No sentinel could do that. It was terrible and cruel, and Ran should pray that it’s not true.

“I guess I can’t prove it to you. But yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ran heard himself say for maybe the hundredth time.

The other sentinel sighed.

“Ran, I think the reason that you’re asking so many questions is because you feel guilty. Here’s the thing little Ran, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. You just want to survive. There’s nothing bad about wanting to live. In fact, It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

“I…” Ran clenched his fists, struggling to come to grips with himself.

He was standing on the precipice looking down. He knew he wanted to jump. But it was so scary. It’d be so much easier if he could just close his eyes and let someone push him.

“You’re just doing what you have to do to survive. No one can blame you.”

“Calm,” he looked up at the sentinel, knees shaking. He wasn’t sure about so many things, but there was one thing he did know. One thing he knew he wanted, and one person who could give it to him.

“I-I think I want to live.”

* * *

Calm looked down, observing the sentinel in his arms. The first time seemed to have been a bit too intense for little Ran. He’d zoned right afterwards. After Calm cleaned him up and removed the scent of sex, he would have to take him back to the base camp where the guides were. They’d both be disqualified, but that didn’t really matter much now.

Hopefully next time would be easier. It would definitely be easier once they had Oren around to help.

He took a moment to gaze upon his sentinel’s face, allowing himself give in to his impulses as he leaned down to lay a gentle kiss upon their forehead.

He wanted to be honest with Ran. He didn’t like having to lie or be manipulative. That only wasted energy.

He had been honest about most things, he thought.

Any lie he’d told, any information he withheld was for Ran’s own benefit.

Like the idea that Ran had had a choice. The idea that if Ran had refused that Calm couldn’t have easily found another way to get him to bond with Oren or another guide and become his. The idea that he couldn’t have used his influence to get the tower to change Ran’s rank and get him his own guide earlier.

The truth was, from the moment that that weak sentinel had glared up him with his fiery eyes, from that moment, it’d already been decided. That he would end up like this, in Calm’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
